Code Geass: Redo of the Rebellion
by Sir Kai
Summary: Zero Requiem is in tatters and the world is on fire. Watching as his greatest plan crumbles before his eyes, Lelouch is offered the ultimate chance: to go back and redo his Black Rebellion. If he succeeds, he can enjoy the fruits of his labor with those he loves. If he fails, however, he will cease to exist. The battle for salvation begins.
1. Turn 1: Requiem's End

Believe me if I owned Code Geass, R2 would not exist.

Tokyo, Japan- December 10, 2022

Major Kallen Kozuki, last surviving member of the Zero Squadron, gritted her teeth in frustration. The Guren Seiten's energy filler beeped a steady alarm at 12 percent remaining capacity, a constant nuisance as Kallen attempted to assess the situation at hand. According to her onboard map, the last three explosions had taken out a good third of the UFN forces, the IFF beacons of well over two hundred Akatsuki frames signaling as "LOST" on the screen. Kallen grimaced. In addition to the loss of a substantial amount of KMF's, three regiments of infantry and a pair of grounded Knightmare battalions had been incinerated, allowing the Britannian forces to advance down six more blocks. She realized with a moment of heartache that that was where Tamaki's unit had been.

_Just one more lost to that bastard prince_, she thought angrily, angling her Knightmare back toward the Ikaruga. _Tamaki, Minami, Todoh, Chiba, Li Xingke, Tianzi, Kaguya._ The names rattled off within her mind, reminding her of all of the friends she had lost in the past eighteen months. _And that's not even mentioning the Student Council_, Kallen thought bitterly, remembering how Milly had been shot during the Fall of Paris, and how Rivalz was lynched during the height of the Anti-Britannian Riots near the end of 2021.

_And of course,_ she amended, _Zero_.

_How did things get so screwed up_, she wondered. _Where did it all fall apart? Wasn't Zero Requiem supposed to fix this, supposed to bring lasting world peace?_

_Wasn't the world supposed to have its gentle future?_

She shook herself out of her musing. It didn't matter now. Whatever path had brought them to this living Hell, it was in the past. All that mattered now was them fixing it.

"Ohgi," Kallen said into the mic," I need a refit. Requesting permission to land."

"Confirmed, Major, proceed to Hangar Three. We'll have crew waiting for you."

"Roger." Kallen cut the comm panel, adjusting the yoke on the Guren in order to improve her incoming approach.

It was hectic when she finally landed inside the hanger, ground crews sprinting left and right, working on multiple frames at once. She noticed that most of the outgoing Frames were leaving with their energy fillers largely untouched. Jumping out of the cockpit, she waited for her own group of engineers to begin toiling on the Guren before speaking to the crew chief.

"Hey, Minato, why is it most of the Akatsukis aren't being refilled?"

The crew chief gave her a look before saying," Not enough to spare. Sakuradite's hard to come by these days, and Prime Minister Ohgi has been saving the few we have for Aces."

_Like me_, Kallen thought, barely suppressing a sigh. She stepped away from her KMF and let the team get to work on the refit, and sat down on one of the large crates nearby. A passing dock hand was kind enough to hand her a water bottle as he passed, giving her no time to time to refuse it before rushing off.

_Probably Ohgi's doing_. The thought comforted Kallen, reassured that at least some things never changed. Ohgi had never truly stopped being overprotective of Kallen, always treating her like a little sister even after Viletta had given birth to their twins. In some ways Kallen was grateful for that, glad to know that someone was always looking after her. In others it irritated her, especially when she had been trying to live her own life after moving out of her mother's house and Ohgi had seen fit to rent her out an apartment despite her requests that he not. Sometimes the way he mothered her just got to her. Fortunately, this was not one of those times.

Turning away from those thoughts, Kallen turned her attention to the bottle held loosely in her hand, gazing at the reflection that stared back at her. One thought ran through her mind.

_I look terrible_. She took in the worry lines creasing her brow, the pronounced bags around her eyes, and the various scars she had picked up in the last few battles. Two cut through her mouth from when a panel inside the Guren had shattered, metal and glass cutting down through her lips; a small one from a knife crossed its way across the far corner of her right eye, slashing into the finely arched eyebrow above. But the one that really drew her attention was the mottled and wrinkled burn that caught her left eye and seared its way into her hair, a souvenir from the car bomb that had killed Kaguya and had nearly killed her.

She brushed the hair back a little bit self-consciously. _Would you mind how I look, Lelouch?_ The question was an honest one, and one she doubted any of the others would like hearing. _Or would you think that I'm being a little vain?_ She asked with an amused smile. It was a habit these days, speaking to him as if he were there, imagining his answers, carrying on one-sided conversations with him. It comforted her on some level, even though she knew he couldn't answer. Even though he would never answer.

The smile dropped from her face. _I'm sorry,_ she sent to him_, I'm sorry for fouling things up so badly, for making your sacrifice meaningless. I was supposed to protect the world you created and I blew it._

"Major!" Minato shouted, drawing Kallen out of her reverie." We've got her nice and ready for ya if you're ready to get moving."

Kallen nodded, setting the undrunk water onto the crate as she moved forward. "I am," she said, climbing into the Guren and powering it on. After double checking her system readings, she lifted off, soaring out of the hangar bay and back into the fight.

Prince Schneizel el Britannia gazed with an undisguised smirk at the battle map. The UFN forces, though it really should just be called the Black Knights plus the Chinese Remnant at this point, had sustained major losses from the bombing run enacted by the _Avalon_, and now the various squadrons were beginning to break. Official retreat had not been called yet, he could tell, but it was obvious the momentum shift was toward him. Another careful push and the enemy would crumble.

"It's quite the lovely sight isn't it, Your Highness?" Schneizel said in a tone of polite mockery to the young girl sitting next to him. He glanced at her out of his peripheral vision, his eyes bright with merriment. Empress Nunnally vi Britannia, 100th Empress of the Holy Britannian Empire, glared at him with hostility, ignoring the flashes of light that signaled the Knightmare combat taking place just outside the viewport.

"I hardly find the view as pleasant as you do, brother." She said "brother" as if it were a curse, hurling it at him in a voice filled with contempt. "People are dying out there, and you find it entertaining."

"Not at all, dear sister," Schneizel said with affected pain." I'm merely satisfied that we are but one step closer to world peace."

"We already had world peace," Nunnally rebutted angrily. "Peace bought with my brother's life. A peace that you have torn asunder."

"It was a false peace Your Highness, built on a foundation made weak by lies and arrogance. I have merely exploited those weaknesses in order to produce a much more desirable outcome."

"And what outcome is that? One of tyranny, of world domination, of a planet ruled through fear. Mankind will never know true peace, true brotherhood, in the Hell you wish to create."

"Did the world know such things in the false life the Demon created? Did wars stop in their tracks, never to begin again? Did fanatics suddenly see the error of their ways and lay down their weapons? Oh yes, it was most certainly a much more peaceful world, dear sister, and Paradise was remade on Earth."

"It was not perfect, of that there is no question, but it is certainly better than what you are doing now!"

"So you admit at last that the world of old, the world of the Demon, was but the lesser of two evils? Not to worry Your Highness. The world I am creating here and now will not have to fear evil of any sort. It shall be eradicated from the face of this planet, and all men shall know peace."

"The oppression of a tyrant, nothing more," Nunnally said, her voice a mixture of exhaustion and sorrow. Schneizel chose not to respond, his attention returning to the battle. The Guren Seiten and its legendary pilot had returned to the field and already it was causing havoc among his lines. Fifteen "LOST" signals had blossomed on the screen, and more were sure to follow. His advance seemed to be stalling. Schneizel clicked on his communications link.

"Sir Weinburg, are you ready?" He asked, a cold smile worming its way across his face.

"Yes Your Highness," came the voice on the other end.

"Then launch. The Guren has returned to the field. Keep her occupied while we make the final adjustments."

"Understood." The comm switched off immediately, causing Schneizel to chuckle.

_Here's where the fun begins._

"Die you bastard!" Kallen roared as she ignited the Radiant Wave Surger, melting away the cockpit of a pilot that had gotten too close. She sent the Guren through the resulting explosion, using it as a small shroud as she blasted into the two behind it, firing off her slash harken into the first's wingspan, sending it in free fall towards the ground below, and grabbing the other by its factsphere, crushing it like a bug before letting it go and allowing the pilot to eject. Kallen spun the Guren in a 360 degree turn, looking for more enemies.

When she had first come out of the hangar they had swarmed her, forcing her to blast through them, tearing off limps and shearing through the various platforms, not bothering to watch them drop as she moved closer to the center of the battle. From there it had been a maelstrom of activity, either melting or tearing through the Britannian Sutherlands as she helped the beleaguered allied units, putting a stop to the Britannian offensive.

Now however it seemed the Britannians had wised up, fleeing from whichever area she happened to reinforce, giving the Black Knight pilots a few moments to rest, but returning like cockroaches whenever she left.

_It can't go on like this_, Kallen thought. Black Knight KMF's were already beginning to drop from the sky, the pilots ejecting from their units and parachuting down to the surface below. No matter how many they dropped, more kept coming, and they didn't have the resources to keep killing them. _At this rate, they'll overwhelm us for sure._

She began to turn back to the field when she felt it. A sudden tremor of danger, senses honed by years of warfare and countless battles. Kallen surged the Guren straight up, back flipping to avoid the large bladed weapon that had nearly slashed her through. She righted the Frame, curving around to face her opponent, and couldn't help but feel a sense of heartbreak.

Hovering before her was the Tristan in all of its glory, and Kallen knew of only one man that piloted it.

"Gino," she called out," long time no see."

"I know right? I just wish it was under different circumstance," Gino responded back, his words playful but his voice serious, a once rare tone that seemed to have become all too common in recent days. "I've been tasked with bringing you down. Hope you don't mind."

"We don't have to do this Gino," Kallen pleaded." You know this is wrong. Join us, we can protect her."

"She's on board the _Avalon_ Kallen. Not exactly the best place for a rescue mission. And aside from which," Gino's voice turned acidic," you guys can't even protect your home town. What the hell makes you think you could protect her?"

Kallen's voice turned desperate. "Gino, listen-"

"You saw what happened, what they did to Gottwald. " Of course she had. It had taken six squads but they'd finally gotten him. "I'm not letting that happen to Anya!"

The Tristan blasted forward at his final declaration, MSV swords held high. Kallen stood her ground, waiting until he had closed the distance, then fired up the Radiant Wave Surger, catching the two blades, then kicked the Guren's legs high, knocking the Tristan's arms up. She used the momentum to turn the kick into a backflip, then thrusting forward, slamming the red Frame's shoulder into the center piece of the Tristan.

Gino rolled with the blow, allowing Kallen to push him back through the air before using their momentum to break away, quickly transitioning the Tristan into its jet form and powering off into the melee. Kallen's recovery was quick , powering after him at full speed, weaving her way up, over, and sometimes through battling Sutherlands and Akatsukis, her targeting computer fixed on the Tristan's signature.

Just as she was about to catch up to it, the Tristan transformed back into its Knightmare form, twisting around and firing its slash harkens. Kallen dodged, then barked in shocked anger when the Guren suddenly shook. She checked her cameras, trying to get a sense of what had happened, when she saw it: the Avalon. Her eyes widened in comprehension.

_Dammit!_ She cursed silently. _He drew me into the Avalon's range!_

She'd forgotten she had them to contend with. She looked back at the Tristan with new respect. _He's_ _gotten_ _better_, she thought sadly.

The Tristan sped towards her, shifting back into jet form, harkens returned and ready. Kallen matched his speed, coming in head on, Radiant Wave Surger powering up. When they seemed impossibly close, Gino fired off his harkens. She dodged between them, pivoting through and up, and bringing the claw down as the Tristan transformed again, MSV slashing up at her. Kallen had anticipated this, twisting the arm appropriately, and catching the sword in the Surger's claw. She cranked it up, melting quickly through the blade, gripping the arm of the Tristan as hers went through the broken blade, and amped the Surger up to maximum strength.

Gino detached the arm instantly and it exploded, showering them in scrap metal, then fired off his slash harken. Kallen moved but was far too close: the harken caught the Guren's right arm, tearing through the base and shearing it clean off. Kallen moved with the swipe, spinning the Guren a full 360 degrees, and kicking the Tristan hard in the side.

The Tristan reeled from the impact, flying through the air, attempting to transform into its jet form. Kallen didn't let up, firing her chest mounted slash harkens, piercing the Tristan's feet, then whirling around with the Frame in her grasp, building up speed, before releasing it, throwing it clear of the _Avalon's_ range. She belted after it, pushing the Feather system to its limit, then kicked the Tristan again as she powered up the Radiant Wave Surger.

_This is it_, she thought. _Just take care of his remaining float system and haul him off to the Ikaruga. Then, grab Anya and Nunnally, and blow the Avalon straight to Hell._

She kicked out again, intending to spin the Tristan around and give her free access to the Float system on the back, when Gino fired off his second slash harken, catching the Guren in its factsphere, causing it to reel back, the Surger transplanting itself onto the Tristan's head. Kallen grunted at the sudden impact, then checked her undamaged cameras. Her blood chilled.

The Tristan's other arm held its remaining MSV pointed squarely at her Sakuradite core, prepared to thrust in at the slightest provocation. The Tristan's legs straddled the Guren's waist, forcing it down, the silver claw still firmly attached to the Tristan's own face. Kallen recognized the situation at hand: neither could move, any action would be seen as an aggressive one. There was no way to escape. It was a stalemate.

_Unless I fire it_, Kallen realized in horror, referring to the Surger. It was faster than Gino's sword, and furthermore was fully powered up.

Gino's voice crackled over the comm. "Well, what are you waiting for, Kallen? Do it."

Tears burned Kallen's vision. "No! Gino, don't make me do this, don't make me-"

"If you don't," Gino interrupted," I will." The MSV moved slightly, prepared to stab deep and finish her off.

"Stop!" Kallen shouted as the blade edged closer. "Don't do it Gino don't-"

"I'm sorry." Gino plunged forward, the blade connecting with the chassis.

"Goddamnit!" Kallen screamed, tears streaming down her cheeks as she mashed down on the firing button. The Tristan ballooned underneath the silver claw as radiation was pumped violently into the machine.

"Take care of her Kallen," Gino said over the comm," Please get her out of there. Get her to safety." The Tristan exploded in a ball of fire, burning away its pilot with it.

Kallen sobbed, her body heaving with grief, finally freed from the pin. She brought her eyes up and watched the remains of the Tristan fall back to Earth. She screamed," I will, I'll keep her safe, and I'll make him pay. I promise."

She turned back to the _Avalon_. "Schneizel!" She roared, eyes on fire. "You'll pay for this!" She blasted off, trailing a blaze of pink light toward the enemy flagship.

"Your highness, the Tristan has been destroyed. Sir Weinberg did not eject."

"No matter," the Prince said, his smile decidedly nasty," He has accomplished his goal. Release Lady Alstreim after the battle is concluded. Are the final preparations complete?"

"Yes Your Highness."

"Good." He watched the Guren speed across the map, the _Avalon_ its obvious target. "Project the Guren's flight path and target her next likely location. You may fire when ready."

Kallen blasted through the Britannian ranks, kicking and clawing her way through wave after wave of Sutherlands and flight-enabled Vincents, her approach inexorable. She had just entered the Avalon's cannon range when it happened. The Sutherland smashed right into her, knocking her off course, forcing her to take a wider path as the Britannian air forces attempted to close in around her.

_I don't have time for this_, she cursed, juking around another oncoming Sutherland, trying to configure a new approach plan. Suddenly the Guren was rocked violently, and Kallen felt as if she were being thrown around like a volleyball. She grit her teeth, trying to maintain some control over her machine and failing miserably. She felt herself beginning to spiral downward, the Feather system barely functioning, not doing enough to arrest her fall.

A building came into the view of her cracked cameras, and unable to control herself, the Guren careened into it, smacking off of the side, before smashing into another one, and then another, before crashing through a railway bridge, and crashing hard into the ground. Her head slapped into the Guren's side, and with a pained gasp, she grasped her skull, her eyes rolling up into her head as the darkness claimed him.

Kallen woke up slowly, pain lancing through her skull. She checked her computer readouts and groaned. Everything was in critical condition, the Feather Wing System broken beyond repair, the Radient Wave Surger broken and bent out of shape, and the legs were completely gone.

In short, the Guren was totaled.

_Rakshata's going to kill me_, Kallen thought dazedly, turning her attention to the cracked digital map. What she saw made her whimper.

The dots marking Black Knight forces had gone down substantially, and those that hadn't been destroyed or disabled were in full retreat. It was all over. They had lost.

Kallen felt despair grip her heart, then watched in shock as a substantial amount of "LOST" signals popped up in quick succession. _What's going on?_ she wondered.

She checked the one working camera, the sudden motion making her head spin. The _Ikaruga_ was almost overhead, Akatsuki units flying down to pick her up.

_Dammit Ohgi_, she thought without any real venom, _leave me here. I'm not of any use to anyone now. Get our people out of here._ And then she saw it.

A bright pink light appeared just a few blocks away from them and began to rapidly eat away at the surrounding buildings, expanding rapidly towards the _Ikaruga_ and Guren. Horror rose within her. She recognized that beautiful, horrible light anyhere.

_F.L.E.I.J.A._ This was it then. She was finished. They were finished.

_Gino_! She suddenly thought_. Anya, Nunnally, I'm sorry, so, so, sorry, I've failed you._

As the pink light began to envelop the _Ikaruga_, one final thought went through her mind. _Lelouch, I'm sorry my love, I'll be seeing you again soon._

And then she knew nothing but fire.

He screamed. He screamed as he had screamed for the last two years. Screamed as he watched it all far apart. Screamed as those he loved, those he gave everything for, burned away with the last remnants of the Requiem.

Screamed as he watched her die.

He had been stuck here for he didn't know how long, floating in white space, given the horrifying opportunity to watch as his greatest plan, his ultimate masterpiece, tore itself apart in mess of fire and blood, those he had entrusted to its protection and success unable to forestall the inevitable. He could see the mistakes made, the decisions that he would not have taken, the weakness shown when there needed to be strength, and it had been torturous to not be able to do anything, to watch but never tell, to scream without sound. It had been simple to see where it all began to fall apart.

The foundation of the plan itself had been flawed, dangerously naïve. He had not counted on the baser evil of man, nor the cruelty of simple rotten luck. The universe, it seemed, liked to take his best plans and point out all the flaws in the most terrifying ways possible, and this was no exception. That the whole world burned along with it did not seem to bother the Powers that Be one bit.

And so he raged, he hated, he lashed out at the forces that kept him here in limbo, unable to join those he had loved in the sleep of death, yet not consigned to the fires of his own personal Hell. He cursed them, degraded them, questioned their compassion, their cruelty, their very existence itself.

Finally he was spent, and lapsed into sullen silence, curled into a ball, the pain wrapping itself around him, a comfortable friend these days. And in that silence he began to think. To see the mistakes he had made, the unnecessary deaths his inexperience had caused, the atrocities he had committed for his own ego and need for vengeance.

Options he could have taken, paths he should have chosen, began to pop into his mind, but where would he start?

_At Shirley, _he thought, tears burning his eyes_. I'd check the range of the landslide, I'd make sure her father didn't die, that Mao never sank his claws into her, that…_he paused for a moment_. I'd kill Rolo before he got anywhere near her._

His thoughts continued onward. _I'd find a way to bring Suzaku to my side, to persuade him of the righteousness of my plans, and beg his help._

_And Euphy_. The tears spilled over. _She'd never die. She'd never be hurt, never be touched by the horrors of war. She and Suzaku would have their happy ending._

And what of the rest of the world?

_A kind and gentle world,_ he thought_. One free of tyranny and oppression, one where all must practice justice. Nunnally's world of love and peace._

Do you think you could do it?

Yes, yes, a thousand times yes, he could, he would, or he'd be consigned nonexistence itself.

That's rather extreme, but very well. We accept this contract.

Wait, what? Lelouch realized for the first time that those questions were not his own thoughts.

What's going on here he said fearfully. Where are you? Who are you?

We are those with the power to grant a wish, for a price.

A wish? Lelouch asked. What kind of wish?

What you desire most: a second chance. You will be returned to the world of the living and be allowed to begin your rebellion again.

Again? Lelouch felt himself become giddy with the heady feeling of excitement. Then he paused. You mentioned a price for this wish. What is it?

Nothing you need concern yourself with right now. Now, go. She's waiting for you.

Who?

A voice came screaming to him out of the darkness. "He mustn't die!"


	2. Turn 2: The Day The Demon Was Reborn

See Turn 1 Disclaimer

Shinjuku Ghetto, 2017

Lelouch watched in numb shock as C.C. crumpled before him, the bullet that had been meant for him embedded in her forehead. He stared in shocked silence at the blood pooling now beneath her head, staining and twisting her green hair into an unnatural red. The sounds of combat poured in from behind ruined walls, the screams of the dying filtering through the air. A harsh chuckle drew his attention upward.

The Captain of the Guard was laughing quietly, a nasty grin turning his lips. "Well what foul luck do we have here? We were supposed to take the girl in, but it seems the terrorists killed her already, along with a Britannian schoolboy. How tragic." He looked to Lelouch, saying," How does that sound to you schoolboy?"

Lelouch was barely paying any attention to him, instead taking in the scenery around him, the ruined building he had dragged C.C. to an eternity ago. _I'm back_, he thought with a giddy joy, _I'm really back._

He felt something cool and smooth snake up his hand and grasp his wrist, and had only a second to realize that it was C.C.'s hand before he was blinded by a bright light.

Hello there, Lelouch, fancy meeting you out here.

C.C., is that really you? He hoped his voice didn't sound too hopeful.

Honestly, fool boy, who else would it be? Her voice was filled with dry mirth.

Excuse me for being a little cautious, Witch. I think the situation merits it. Lelouch huffed in annoyance, mentally crossing his arms. I need my Geass, C.C. Offer me our contract.

Very well then. I assume you remember my old lines?

Yes, yes, the "power of kings will condemn me to a life of solitude," I remember, just hurry up with this.

Then you accept the terms of the contract? Her voice was strangely inquisitive.

Yes.

Good. Now why don't you get rid of the kind gentleman whose about to shoot you?

Actually Lelouch said with a nasty grin, I have a better idea.

(LINE BREAK)

"Well, what do you think?" The Captain huffed in annoyance.

Lelouch stood slowly, his hand coming up to cover his left eye. "That sounds like a marvelous idea," he said, an insidious smile snaking its way across his face. "But I have a better one."

"Oh you do, huh?" The Captain said in good humor, playing along. "And what, pray tell, would that be?"

Lelouch grinned. "Well, if you insist." He uncovered his left eye. "_I, Lelouch vi Britannia, command you, all of you, obey my every command!_"

The Royal Guards eyes began to glow a faint red. The Captain's grin turned manic. "Happily Your Highness!" As one, he and his men kneeled, crossing their arms over their breast, the mindless servants bowing before their new master.

"Very creative," C.C. said, rising up behind him and smirking at the kneeling soldiers. "Why didn't you do this last time?"

"Last time I was too heady, too high on my new power. I made a lot of mistakes because of it," Lelouch said, stepping closer to the gathered soldiers. "Your orders are as follows: in precisely thirty minutes you will locate Margrave Jeremiah Gottwald, and only Gottwald, and bring him to Prince Clovis' command center. Tell him that the prince has special orders for him and that they must speak in private. You will escort him there personally. Am I understood?"

"Yes, Your Highness!" They shouted as one.

"Also," Lelouch added," there's one more thing I need you to do."

(Line Break)

Villeta Nu woke up painfully, gritting her teeth as pain lanced through her skull. She brought her hand up to the back of her head, running her fingers through her hair before wincing when she found the welt that seemed to have suddenly appeared on her person. She tried to remember what happened when she realized something horrible.

She had no idea where she was.

She sat up slowly trying to get a sense of placement. Looking around she saw that she was in what appeared to be a warehouse, one that had seen much better days, and that she was completely alone. She checked her belt, searching for her comm link, and discovered to her irritation that it was missing. Upon further inspection she felt a keen sense of dread.

The key to her Sutherland was gone. Whirling around she saw, too, that her Knightmare was nowhere to be seen.

"Dammit," she cursed quietly, standing up, "How the Hell am I going to explain this?"

(Line Break)

"That was rather mean of you Lelouch," C.C. said, amused.

"I think it was well deserved myself," Lelouch said, an unrepentant grin lifting his face.

"You could have simply told her to forget all about you," she pointed out. "There was no need to have those goons knock her out."

Lelouch huffed in irritation. "That woman caused me no small amount of grief in my previous life. I was simply returning the favor."

"Then why didn't you just kill her and spare yourself the risk?"

"Because she made Ohgi happy, and I won't rob him of any chance they might have in the new world. After all the hardship they faced, they've earned that much.

"And besides," Lelouch added with a smirk," she doesn't remember a thing about me."

When Villeta had arrived, it had been to meet the Royal Guard who, as per his orders, restrained her the second she came in range after exiting her Sutherland. After making her hand over the key to her Knightmare, Lelouch had ordered her to forget about the entire incident upon her waking, then ordered the Captain to smack her over the head with the butt of his pistol. She'd wake up with a headache but otherwise unharmed, and none the wiser as to his identity.

C.C. shrugged in indifference. "It doesn't really matter to me, so long as you are able to fulfill your contract. Now, what next?"

"Now," Lelouch said with a snide grin," we begin again."

(Line Break)

Prince Clovis la Britannia had never felt so humiliated in his entire life. The battle had been easy in the beginning, pathetically so in fact, to the point to where he had actually been _begging_ for some sort of challenge. The old adage "Be careful what you wish for" ran through his mind.

In the space of just five minutes, the cleansing of Shinjuku Ghetto had been completely turned in on itself, five squads lost in quick succession without having inflicted any actual casualties on the enemy forces. It had begun with a single ambush, the loss of an entire squad, a momentary problem that seemed now to be the new norm on this ghastly battlefield. "LOST" signals were beginning to appear all across the map, as his Knights were either forced to eject or were killed with their exploding Knightmares.

_What the Hell is going on? _Clovis' mind shrieked in outrage. _We were winning just moments ago. What could possibly have changed?_

The terrorists seemed to be predicting all of his moves with ease, cutting off his advance, seemingly knowing wherever his men were and having already deployed into intercept points.

_Who am I dealing with here_? Clovis' panicked mind wondered. _Is it Todoh_?

The more he thought about, the more he realized that solution didn't make sense. Much as it pained him to admit, if Todoh had been in charge all along, the young prince would not have stood a chance.

_Then_ _who_? _Who could it possibly be if not the Miracle Man?_ The idea that some no name strategist was the one defeating him angered him to his core. _If the homeland finds out about this, I'll be a laughingstock. That's not even mentioning what'll happen if they find out about Code-R._

" The terrorists are intercepting our transmission!" General Bartley Asperius shouted. "Change them now!"

"We already have sir, four times!" The panicking operative cried back.

This fact enraged Clovis, and as Asperius ordered the hapless man to change them again, he shrieked," This failure is unacceptable!"

Asperius jumped back even as Clovis stormed his way down to the map. "Out of my way! I will command this battle personally from now on."

He would _not_ let this fool get the better of him. His pride would not allow it.

(Line Break)

Kallen Kozuki sported a feral grin as she watched the last pilot eject. "Take that you bastards!" she shouted with glee even as she had her Glasgow kick the useless Sutherland away from her. "You think you can just march into our homes, massacre us, and not expect a fight? Well think again!"

She was already beginning to look for more targets when the Voice returned. "Q-1, do you have a map of the area?"

"I do," Kallen confirmed," but it's not up to date."

"Believe me, it'll do. Enter the subway system and move to these coordinates as quickly as you can. P-1 and P-5 will accompany you. Understand?"

"Yes, sir," Kallen said in response, angling her KMF around to the subway.

Kallen had long since given up trying to understand why it was that she followed the mysterious voice so easily, nor how it was that when he had greeted her and Ohgi, it had been by their names, stated with the familiarity of constant use. Though she had demanded to know how he knew who they were, he had merely shrugged her off, deeming it "unimportant" before presenting herself and the others with several squads worth of Britannian Sutherlands and munitions, and then turning what had been a stinging defeat into nothing but victory.

Hope had returned to them, and with it they seemed to move mountains.

A few minutes later, Kallen and the others had arrived at their destinations and took up their designated positions. The Glasgow's radio crackled again.

"Are you in position?" the Voice asked.

"Yes."

"On my command, you will fire your slash harkens into the ceiling's support structures. Timing is critical here. You must do this exactly on my command. Can you do this?"

"Of course we can, though I can't see the reason why we have to," Kallen huffed, strangely annoyed at his doubt.

"You'll see in a moment. Now prepare yourself the time approaches quickly."

Kallen and the others waited tensely, sweat building up on her forehead. _What does he have us doing?_ she wondered. Then she began to feel it, a trembling in the rock as something large, numerous, and heavy moved across the area above.

"Now," the Voice roared suddenly," Do it now!"

There was no hesitation, just as she had assured him. They all fired as one, piercing the support structures and ripping them apart. The ceiling above began to crack, small pebbles and then large blocks falling to the ground below, then crumbled completely. Kallen saw first in shock, then in unabashed joy as Britannian Sutherlands fell with it, crashing into the ground and one another, some exploding as their Sakuradite cores were punctured while others were simply crushed under the sudden increase in weight.

She laughed as she imagined the looks on the faces of the pilots as they fell to their deaths. "Serves you right, you murdering Britannians!" She couldn't believe it; they weren't just surviving. They were winning.

_And it's all because of him_, she thought, awe struck. In just ten minutes, the Voice on the radio had turned a massacre into a lopsided victory. _Just who are you?_

"Listen up," the Voice suddenly said, bringing her out of her reverie, "I want all of you to disembark from your Knightmares right now and pull back. You are to escort as many people out of the ghettos as you possibly can."

"What kind of crap is that?" Kallen heard Tamaki shout," We're kicking ass here and you want us to split?"

"Yeah, what's the deal?" Kallen said angrily, not believing she was agreeing with Tamaki. "Thanks to you, we're winning."

"You won't be for much longer," the Voice responded, his tone impatient." The Britannians are about to deploy their newest Knightmare Frame into combat. It's far beyond anything that you're currently using and is being piloted by a man on par with the Knights of the Round. None of you currently stand a chance."

Kallen nearly panicked. "A Knight of the Round?" The Knights of the Round were the most skilled and most dangerous pilots that Britannia had to offer. If one of them was here, they were all screwed.

"No, simply on their level. If you fight him, he will destroy you."

"And how do you know all this?" Tamaki asked petulantly.

"I know many things, P-1, but this comes from personal experience. Pull back now or risk death."

"What are you going to do," Kallen asked, suddenly curious.

"Isn't it obvious?" The Voice's….voice asked in amusement. "I'm going to have a little chat with the Viceroy." With that he cut out, and no matter how Kallen tried to hail him, he did not respond.

(Line Break)

"I can't believe Clovis was this bad" C.C. said, her voice carrying a note of disbelief. "I mean really, what idiot breaks his encirclement to go after an obvious trap?"

"The kind whose too proud to realize he's in over his head," Lelouch responded wryly, somewhat amused by her irritation. "He's worse than I remember, actually, though I guess that comes from finding much bigger game later on." It was true, in comparison to his battles with Cornelia, Schneizel, and Xingke, it was almost like playing a game of hop scotch rather than an actual challenge.

"So now we go have that chat with Clovis, right?"

"You read my mind," Lelouch said with mirth, then yelped in pain when she punched him on the arm. "What the Hell was that for?"

"Do you really have to ask, Lelouch?" Her voice was exasperated, but her eyes were sad.

_Mao_, he realized, and then felt like kicking himself. Of course she still held herself responsible for what happened to him. That itself brought about a whole new can of worms as he remembered his psychotic counterpart. _I'll have to deal with him soon_. But first…

"Sorry," he said ruefully. "That was careless of me."

"Yes, it was," C.C. said, but her eyes showed merriment. Back to her usual self then.

Lelouch opened the hatch of the Sutherland helping her out and then following after her. "Well," he said when he reached the ground," let's go check in on my dear brother."

(Line Break)

Margrave Jeremiah Gottwald cursed in frustration as the Royal Guard drove him back to the G-1 Mobile Command Center. When his Knightmare had been destroyed by that damned Glasgow, he had been forced to eject and find a safe place to hide while the terrorist in the red painted Frame had moved on, seemingly with renewed purpose. He then had the privilege of watching in shock as the squads that had been assigned as the perimeter guard for the G-1 began to move into the ghetto towards the combat zone.

_What idiot told them to leave?_ Jeremiah wondered. So far as he had been aware there had been no reason to expose the Viceroy to unnecessary danger. What if one the terrorist groups managed to outflank them? The Viceroy would be a sitting duck.

He had raised these concerns when the prince's Royal Guard had appeared in a commandeered car, explaining that His Highness required his presence for something so secretive that they were forbidden from speaking of it. When Clovis then ordered a cease to all hostilities and the treatment of all injured, be they Elevens or Britannians, his curiosity had been piqued even more, and he wondered what he was needed for. Regardless, the Guards had failed to respond, only saying that the prince needed his "most trusted soldier."

Pride swelled up within his bosom at the recollection of those words. Jeremiah was an exceptionally loyal man, loyal both to the men under his command and to those who earned that loyalty. In the years since the invasion and Jeremiah's own transfer to Area 11, Clovis had proven himself a man deserving of that loyalty, working tirelessly not only to rebuild the fallen nation into a worthy colony, but also to find his brother and sister, the vi Britannia siblings, and restore them to their rightful place. Jeremiah's rage against the Elevens had grown with Clovis', more and more wrathful at the animals that had taken the Flash's children out of the world. In the end, all either man could do was begin the search for their corpses so that they could be buried like the royalty that they were.

Thinking of the deceased children made Jeremiah wince once more at the memory of his greatest failure. He should have been there, he should have done something more, anything to protect his Lady. And when he failed her, he should have fought as hard as possible for her children.

_But with what standing?_ Jeremiah thought angrily. _My name was mud after my failure. Who would have entrusted her children to me? It is not an honor that I would deserve._

At least that last one he was sure of. No matter what happened, no matter how high he rose, no matter much he avenged his Lady's children on these damned Elevens, he would never be worthy enough to serve his true masters.

(Line Break)

When he arrived at the G-1, it was curiously undermanned, the foot soldiers that ordinarily guarded it missing from their posts. Jeremiah tried to fight off the eerie feeling of foreboding as they marched down empty halls, past open doors with empty rooms, seeming almost as if everyone had just stopped working and left all at once.

"Where is everyone?" Jeremiah asked, turning his attention to the Captain. The Captain did not respond, instead marching resolutely onward, his back ramrod straight, seemingly deaf to the world. Jeremiah asked again, and when he again got no response, he turned the question onto the others. They were, rudely, no more cooperative than their commanding officer. _Did the Viceroy order them all out? Just what is going on here?_

Finally they reached the command bridge, the Captain punching in the code on the door's lock and ushering the Margrave in.

"Your Highness," Jeremiah said as he walked," You called for-" He stopped speaking, his stomach bottoming out and his heart skipping a beat, freezing on the spot. His eyes could barely take in the horror before his eyes.

Every single member of the bridge staff was dead. The technicians were slumped over the computers, the officers in heaps on the ground, the commanders all leaned against the observation map. The camera displays were covered in blood, filled with small bullet holes. The officers were curled over their ceremonial swords, buried deeply in their stomachs, and the various techs sported holes in their heads from gunshots.

Bile filled Jeremiah's throat, and the turned, searching for the Viceroy, before stopping in shock. Prince Clovis la Britannia, Third Prince of the Empire, Viceroy of Area Eleven, sat dead upon his throne, his brains sprayed all over the back of his chair, fresh blood and bone still dripping from the hole in his forehead.

"Do you like the way I've redecorated?" Jeremiah whirled around, his search for the mocking voice ending when he spotted a Britannian soldier moving out of the shadows, service pistol held in his hand near his waste, pointed squarely at Jeremiah's chest. The Margrave could see the small smile, unhidden by the helmet he wore to mask his face. Jeremiah snarled at him in sudden rage, taking a step forward despite the pistol.

"How dare you!" He roared. "You've have assassinated a Prince of the Empire, not to mention your murder of these fine soldiers. You'll pay the price for this." He turned, unheeding of the handgun." Soldiers, avenge your Prince!"

He turned back to the traitor, ready for the bullet to strike his chest, but uncaring. If it meant his life to bring down this assassin, he would give it in a heartbeat. He would atone for this failure.

The bullet never came. Instead, strong hands grabbed him from behind, restraining him and forcing him to the ground. His service pistol was forcibly tugged from his holster, the magazine ejected and the chambered bullet racked out onto the floor. He could feel the cold steel of a gun barrel being pressed against his temple. He looked up in shock.

The faces of the Royal Guard leered down at him, insane smiles plastered across their face, their eyes glowing a strange red. Jeremiah looked to the Captain, and saw the same manic grin twisting his features, except his eyes were turned instead to the traitor still standing just a few feet away.

"Our task has been completed, Your Highness. Lord Gottwald will pose no threat," the Captain said, adoration in his eyes. "What are your next orders?"

"Keep him restrained," the traitor said, holstering his sidearm and stepping past them, climbing his way up to the throne where dead Clovis sat. He grabbed the dead prince by his coat front, then pulled him out callously out of the chair, causing his body to fall down the steps, sprawling out in front of Jeremiah. The traitor then sat himself down upon the throne, crossing his leg over his knee and falling into a relaxed posture, his chin coming to rest in his hand. "Now then, how are you, Margrave Gottwald?"

Jeremiah's insides twisted with rage. "How dare you sit in His Highness's throne! You arrogant bastard, I'll make you pay for mocking the crown." He turned to the other traitors." And as for you cowards, he trusted you above all men. How could you do this to him? How could you betray him so utterly? What was your price, you traitorous scum?"

"They had no price, Lord Jeremiah. They came to me free of charge," the traitor said from his position, amusement coating his voice. "As you will too."

"Like Hell I will," Jeremiah declared. "I will never betray those I have sworn to protect!"

"Then why have you betrayed me, Jeremiah?" the traitor asked, his voice hard. "Why have you betrayed Empress Marianne's legacy?"

"How dare you," Jeremiah said in quiet outrage. "How dare you dirty Empress Marianne's name with your unworthy lips?"

"Because," the traitor said, grabbing his helmet," I'm her son." With that, he tugged off the helmet.

Jeremiah stared in fascinated horror as silky black hair fell free of the mask, violet eyes and a finely sculpted nose joining together now with a pointed chin. Now he could see the resemblance in this man, the Emperor's eyes and his mother's black hair, the older features of a young boy seven years dead.

Finally done, the young man stood from the throne and said," I am Lelouch vi Britannia, Seventeenth Prince of the Empire, and I have come for my revenge."

Jeremiah could not believe it. His Lord, his Prince, his Master stood before him once more, a boy no longer but a man full grown. He flinched when he saw the disappointment in his eyes, and could not help but wonder what its cause was.

Prince Lelouch turned to the Guards restraining him and said, "Release him."

The soldiers complied at once, the Captain returning his sidearm to Jeremiah's shaking hands. Jeremiah stayed in his position, still too shocked to move. After a tense moment, Jeremiah found his voice." Your Highness, I am overwhelmed with joy at your survival-"

"Save it, Jeremiah," the Prince interrupted, his tone angry," I am disappointed in you. Very disappointed."

Jeremiah flinched at the Prince's tone, bowing his head slightly lower. "I don't know what you mean, Your Highness. What have I done that displeases you?"

The Prince gestured to the view screens, some of them still on. Jeremiah shuddered at what he saw: the bodies of men, women, and children, soaked in blood and torn apart by bullets.

The Prince's voice was sharp and biting. "I never would have thought that a man my mother respected so much would commit mass murder. It seems her judgment was not as sound as I previously thought."

"My Prince I-"

"Do not refer to me as 'My Prince.' I would accept no follower who would commit such atrocities, who would do them with such glee. And neither would Nunnally."

The words shocked him." Then Princess Nunnally is-"

"Alive? Yes. Blinded and crippled, but alive," Prince Lelouch said, his expression a sort of angry melancholy. "She would cry to know that one of mother's guards was a man who would commit genocide."

Jeremiah said nothing, bowing down even further, wishing the ground would swallow him whole, that Clovis' treacherous guards would just kill him right now. He had nothing to say to defend himself.

"Why did you do it, Jeremiah?" his Prince asked." Why would you turn to such villainy? Well?"

The tears came into Jeremiah's eyes as he spoke:" Because they took you away from us, Your Highness. Because they had murdered you and your sister, ended whatever future you could have had, the good you could have done for the Empire." He paused for a moment, then added, "They destroyed our future."

There was a moment of silence before the Prince spoke again. "You fool, Jeremiah. You sad fool. It was not the Japanese who tried to kill us. It was Britannia." Jeremiah's head shot up, staring at his Prince in shock. "It was Britannians who killed my mother, and Britannians who forced my sister and I into hiding. It was Japanese men who saved my life, who got myself and my sister to safety, who kept us safe with their silence for years. You've been going after the wrong people."

In that instant, Jeremiah Gottwald's world shattered_. Murder_, he thought raggedly, _I've been murdering innocent people. Condemning them for a crime they did not commit, and then mercilessly executing them. _He sagged forward, burying his face in steps. He faintly heard the tap of booted feet on carpeted steps, but did not lift his head.

Prince Lelouch's voice drifted down to him:" You regret your actions don't you, Jeremiah? Regret the mistakes that cost the lives of thousands. You want the chance for atonement."

Jeremiah spoke in a broken voice, "It does not matter what I want, Your Highness. What matters is what I deserve."

"And what do you deserve?"

His answer was without hesitation. "To die."

"Then we are in agreement," The Prince said. He added," You will die."

Jeremiah prepared himself for the bullet.

"In service to me." Jeremiah's head shot up. _What_? Had he just heard correctly? Would he find his death, his atonement, in service to his Lord?

"Jeremiah Gottwald," His Prince said in a strong voice," Wilt thou become a sword for justice, a shield for the innocent?"

"Yes."

"Wilt thou swear thyself to me and any member of my family?"

"Yes."

"Wilt thou throw away thine own life and commit it to mine?"  
"Yes." Yes, yes, yes to all eternity.

"Then I dub thee _Sir_ Jeremiah Gottwald, my Orange Knight, my faithful protector. May you know victory on the battlefield in confrontation to our enemies, and atonement for your various sins.

"Now my Knight, my faithful Friend, rise."


	3. Turn 3: Lancelot in Chains

If I owned Code Geass, we'd be making R2 into something that didn't suck

Tokyo Settlement, Area 11, 2017

Suzaku Kururugi was the son of Genbu Kururugi, Japan's last Prime Minister and respectfully referred to as "The Samurai" for giving his life to end the war. After a disappearance that had lasted several years he reemerged as an Honorary Britannian, signing up with the Occupational Forces before being cycled into the main army. His record was notable only for its lack of infractions and, somewhat grudging it could be said, the few commendations that he had managed to incur to himself for his "stalwart loyalty" and devotion to the principles of honor and chivalry. In all respects, Private Kururugi could be described as the model soldier.

But all of this mattered little against the life of a Prince, or more aptly, the death of one, and the opportunity such an event presented. The slaughter of the G-1 bridge staff and the Prince it was supposed to protect could only have been an inside job. The majority of the bridge staff had been killed by a single gunshot wound to the head, with no rounds wasted on other appendages, implying excellent training in the use of handguns, and those that weren't had been run in with their own swords, meaning someone who was able to move at high speeds and the ability to quickly disarm opponents at close range. Neither of these could be performed by a simple terrorist, and often not even by the most exemplary foot soldiers.

Fortunately, Private Kururugi fit here as well.

His marksmanship scores, both with pistols and assault rifles, had been the top of his training unit, and challenged numbers from units in the other Areas as well. His skills in hand to hand combat were likewise exemplary, competing with and beating even seasoned Britannian soldiers in melee combat, (for which he was promptly assaulted and beaten to a pulp, as was only proper). In addition to this, those who knew and served with him could attest to a "darker side" that seemed to surface whenever civilian lives were threatened, be it by terrorists or Britannian troops, (which he was beaten for again, of course), but could just as easily be hidden away behind the cold mask of indifference.

It helped greatly that the Private had disappeared at an early point in the battle, just as reports were coming in that he had met with Clovis' Royal Guard, five brave men who had yet to return and it was feared never would, and he had only reappeared after the cease fire had been issued and the Prince found dead, though the details of his body's state had been left out of the public eye.

In short, Private Suzaku Kururugi had means, motive, and opportunity, and in a sympathetic court, of course provided with more than enough "incriminating evidence", the young soldier could be easily convicted and sentenced to death, calming the public and restoring order to the turbulent colony, not to mention increasing their own power base.

Or, at least, that was what Kewell Soresi had been trying to argue before Margrave Gottwald, his commanding officer and leader of the Purist Faction. The two had spent the better part of an hour exchanging heated words as Lord Jeremiah repeatedly refused to back the plan, no matter the facts that Kewell cited or the statements he made. Exasperated, and angry, Soresi tried one more time.

"I don't understand what the problem is here, My Lord," Kewell ground out, his teeth gnashing together, torso leaned over the Interim Viceroy's desk, hands bunched into fists on either side. "We have everything we need for a conviction. It's a shoe-in."

"Except for one thing Kewell: Opportunity. Everyone in this room is fully aware that Private Kururugi was piloting the prototype KMF out in combat: Lord Asplund won't shut up about it. Even if Kururugi had the means or the motive, I highly doubt he had the chance to carry out such wishes when he was in the middle of the combat zone." Jeremiah's response was cool and to the point, and one based on the sheer practicality of the situation, a marked difference to Kewell's own heated tone. How he hated him for it.

"Be reasonable, Jeremiah, what court is going to listen to the Earl of Pudding?"

"By that you mean 'What court do we not already own?'. I warn you Kewell, there are a good number of them. The wrong judge would see our "evidence" and throw the entire case out. We'd look like fools."

"Then we funnel it to the _right_ judge and ensure the charges stick."

"And if they don't? The same result as before: the Purists looking like idiots at best and opportunistic scoundrels at worst."

Kewell snarled in frustration. "I don't get you, Jeremiah. A week ago you would have jumped all over this, and now you preach caution?"

"I wasn't Interim Viceroy a week ago, Kewell," Jeremiah said, that cool never leaving him, "I wasn't aware of the tenuous position we were in. Any sudden or catastrophic moves on our part could be disastrous. For the sake of the Purist Faction, we must consider our actions carefully and the ramifications that are sure to follow."

Kewell shoved himself away from the desk, disbelief and anger twisting his handsome features. He turned to the right where Viletta had been sitting in silence, watching the two and soaking in the argument. He said, "You try, Viletta, maybe you can get through to him."

"Yes, Viletta," Jeremiah said, his voice now bearing a hint of irritation, "perhaps you can. What is your opinion on this matter?"

Viletta glanced between the two, eye twitching in annoyance. Slowly she said, "I agree with Kewell: we may not get another chance like this, certainly not in the near future." Kewell positively beamed at Jeremiah. "However," she added, "I also agree with Lord Jeremiah: we should move with caution regardless of what we decide here and now."

"Well that was a wonderfully worded non-answer, Viletta," Kewell said snidely even as Jeremiah smirked behind him.

"You asked for my opinion and I gave it. Do with it what you will, but ultimately, it is Lord Jeremiah's decision. "

"Yes, Jeremiah," Kewell said in a low tone, "just what is your decision?"

Lord Jeremiah was silent for a moment, consternation furrowing his brow. Finally his features relaxed and he said, "You've both made good points. Give me an hour and I'll have an answer ready for you."

_At least it's a start_, Kewell thought with some satisfaction. Out loud he said, "Very well then, Jeremiah, we await your announcement with baited breath." With that, he stepped out of the room, and waited outside of the door. After a few more seconds Viletta exited as well, stepping past him into the hallway. Kewell fell in beside her.

"You were extremely disrespectful to Lord Jeremiah, Kewell," Viletta said as soon as they were out of earshot. "When this is over, you need to extend to him an apology."

"I said only what was deserved, Viletta. His restraint on this matter is vexing."

"He is only doing what he feels is right for us, and I for one am glad for his caution."

"Your loyalty is truly something to behold," Kewell said nastily, "Be sure that it doesn't come back to bite you."

Villeta stopped suddenly. "And just what is that supposed to mean?"

Kewell kept walking, throwing over his shoulder, "It means that Lord Jeremiah's time is coming to an end, and the same will happen to anyone who stands with him." _Let her stew on that_, he thought, heading for the mess hall. After all of that business, he needed something to eat.

(Line Break)

Jeremiah Gottwald's chin rested in his hand as he looked over Kururugi's file, not really reading the words on the page, instead staring at the young man's face. Green eyes, brown hair, tanned skin, he certainly didn't look like a soldier, let alone a killer of men. He was just some kid trying to make his life a little bit better.

_Why does crap like this always happen to good people?_ Jeremiah asked tiredly, rubbing his eyes with his free hand, before smiling. In a way it was amusing; the old Jeremiah would have taken this opportunity immediately and damn whatever consequences might come of it; the old Jeremiah would have had the boy carted off by now and shown off to the entire Area before bringing him to his kangaroo court and unlawful execution; the old Jeremiah would have been done with this by now.

The old Jeremiah was dead and a new one had taken his place. If the situation was entirely in his control, the new Jeremiah would have told Kewell to stuff it, to drop Kururugi from consideration, and then promoted the boy to officer status for his expert piloting of the Lancelot. If he did that, however, the Purist Faction would turn on him in an instant, and Kewell, the tactless snake that he was, would take control immediately, and force the group down an even more hardcore path than the one they were already on.

But even more than that, Jeremiah had a greater problem.

"_Wilt thou be a sword for Justice, a shield for the innocent?"_

Jeremiah had meant it when he'd said "Yes", and would like nothing more than to abide by that oath and pull the boy from consideration, but now he experienced a conflict of interests.

"_Wilt thou swear thyself to me and any member of mine family?"_

If Jeremiah did tell Kewell to look elsewhere it was possible, however unlikely, that the man might pick of the assassin's trail and trace it back to His Prince, and that he could not allow. His mind was in turmoil from this quandary.

_If I let Kewell take the boy, it will throw the dogs off Prince Lelouch's back, but it would break my promise to defend the innocent. If, on the other hand, I tell Kewell to search for the real killer, he could find the Prince, and that will certainly end in his execution_. "Dammit," Jeremiah cursed, "What am I supposed to do?"

Jeremiah dug his hand into his coat and pulled his cell phone out of the inside pocket, pulling up the Contacts list and clicking down the list of names. Jeremiah had felt privileged when Prince Lelouch had not only given him his number but also put him on Speed Dial.

_I need your help, My Prince_, Jeremiah thought as pressed the "Send" button and brought the phone up to his ear. _Please, guide me_.

(Line Break)

C.C. slid her fingers over the violet colored coat, luxuriating in its comforting feel, and imagining the sight it would make when debuted before the world. The material was tough, flexible, and would make an excellent flight suit as well as a brilliant ensemble for the masked man who would soon be leading a nation into war. She glanced over at the soon-to-be revolutionary as he spoke into the mouthpiece of his phone, discussing something or other with Orange. She thought she caught the name "Suazaku" and could guess what it was about: the Demon was about to make his appearance.

_Or reappearance as it were_, C.C. thought as she returned her attention to the costume, lifting up the mask that would soon become a beacon of justice and resistance in the days to come. The mask irritated her to some extent; the last time she had seen, it had been worn by the man who executed Lelouch, stained with the blood that the Demon Emperor had wiped on it. C.C. had stayed away from any of the public media after that, sticking to back country and small farming towns, unwilling and unable to view the various news reports on "Zero" or his rescuing of the world from the tyranny of a madman.

_He was a hero_, she had wanted to scream. _He saved you all from your own stupidity! He gave you the gentle world you wanted for so long._

But she had kept silent, not wanting to make his death worthless, his sacrifice meaningless. And for a short time, it seemed as if the plan had succeeded, that peace would truly reign. Then cold reality set itself; the UFN tore itself apart in the gamesmanship that all politicians like to play, the structural problems in the organization becoming more obvious as time went on, and those with half a mind exploiting them for their own benefit. It hadn't surprised her one bit.

C.C. had never been able to delude herself like Lelouch and Suzaku had into believing the plan would work; she had been alive too long, seen too much, and experienced too much of man's darker side to ever be able to fully sign on with it, but had never tried to talk the two out of it. She had seen they both wanted it and would ignore any argument proposed against it, their minds made up and their paths set. Under any other circumstances she would have left them to their own destruction and begun the search for a new contractor, but she had to stay. She helped with the plan because she could see how much Lelouch was hurting, his sister's "death" and the Black Knights' betrayal having pushed him over the edge. She could not, would not, give him her Code. It would have been torture to exist that way; she knew from experience. Lelouch had simply arrived at her present state in a shorter amount of time.

When Nunally had returned it was far too late: they had passed the point of no return, both literally and figuratively. Suzaku would not be denied his vengeance, and after some harsh words from him, Lelouch would not be denied his punishment. And so she had stayed with him in those final months, comforting him, being the rock he needed to carry out his final plan. And when the plan was finally enacted, when "Zero" sprinted down that street toward history, she had prayed for him, for his salvation, because no other person would. Not Suzaku, not Kallen, not even Nunally.

And now here they were all over again, redoing his first rebellion against the Empire, "getting the gang back together" as the saying went, this time armed with a much more mature and experienced commander and general knowledge of future events. It was a rough framework, and one that would likely be changed radically very soon, but it was a good starting point from which they could branch out, charting a new course to a better world.

C.C. was pulled from her thoughts when she heard Lelouch snap his phone shut and make his way over to her. She placed the mask back into the bundle of clothing that constituted his costume and turned to him, asking, "I take it that was about Suzaku?"

Lelouch nodded, his violet eyes hard and calculating. "Orange has informed me of one his subordinates' plan for Suzaku's frame-up."

"Seems rather odd of him," C.C. remarked, "What about those oaths you made him give? Does he go back on them so quickly?"

Lelouch grinned. "Not at all. He was conflicted over what his next action needed to be and required my instruction."

"I assume you told him to back off?"

"On the contrary," Lelouch said, his grin becoming decidedly feral," I've encouraged him to proceed with it. The trial will happen in three days."

C.C.'s eyes widened in surprise. She said, "I'm surprised Lelouch. With Orange now on our side so early in the game I would think you'd want to keep him in his current position, not throw it away so that Zero can come on stage."

"You know me well C.C. Orange won't be the one leading the procession- his subordinate Kewell will." Lelouch began to eye his costume, checking the oversized cuff links and collar and the narrowness of the pants. "From what Orange tells me, Kewell is a man far more ruthless, more petty, and more vengeful than is perhaps healthy for the Japanese people."

"A dangerous enemy to be sure."

"And one we need to be rid of as soon as possible. Zero's appearance at the procession and subsequent announcement will be more than enough to ruin Soresi's career, as well as breaking the power of the Purist Faction."

"Does Orange know about that last part?"

"He does and is on board with it, though it took a bit of convincing. He also made the request that he be allowed to protect Viletta Nu from harm. Apparently she's his most loyal and trustworthy soldier and he doesn't want her career to go down in flames with the rest of them."

"How noble," C.C. remarked. "Moving on to other pressing matters, it seems that your costume is ready for use. You are now ready to wow the world again with your lousy taste in clothing."

"And just what the Hell is that supposed to mean?" Lelouch asked, turning his irritated eyes on her.

C.C.'s eyes glowed with amusement. "Well let's face it Lelouch, this outfit makes you look like a hooker."

Lelouch burned red. "Wh-What the Hell are you talking about, Witch?" He spluttered. "I look the very model of the Britannian nobility!"

"Oh, please Lelouch, you're not fooling anyone," C.C. said, her lips tilting into a smirk. She gestured to the uniform, saying, "Take a look at it yourself." She lifted the arm of the coat. "See the way the sleeves form into tight fixtures along your arms," she patted the torso, "the way the breast and navel parts tighten across your body, defining your slim figure and smooth stomach. Or how about," she lifted the pants, "the way the pants hug your legs and buttocks, tight along the broad parts and leaving very little to the imagination as to what you look like underneath.

"Honestly, all we'd really have to do is take off the cape and mask, stick you under a red light, and you'd have customers in no time."

The more C.C. talked, the more red Lelouch turned from what she guessed was a combination of outrage and embarassement. Finally he spluttered out, "That's completely absurd!"

C.C. frowned suddenly. "You know," she said slowly, "you have a point."

Lelouch glared at her suspiciously. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"Well," she paused, a wicked smile playing across her lips, "we haven't yet decided on your name. How about," she paused again, "the 'Midnight Prince'?"

Lelouch whirled away from her, quickly stuffing his completed costume into his bag.

C.C. continued. "Or maybe 'The Chess Master'?"

Lelouch began to move faster, struggling to get his mask into the confines of the carrier.

"Oh, I know! How about 'The Demon Under Your Bed'?"

"Shut the Hell up!" Lelouch squeaked, turning to her, his face a flaming red. "I'm not into that kind of thing!" he added.

"And yet you allow attractive women, and men, to draw on your face and make you pretty. That's not even mentioning the Cross-Dresser's Ball." Lelouch stared at her incredulously. C.C. smiled. "Nunnally has lots of stories."

Grumbling something about having to tell Nunnally not to talk to strange women, Lelouch finally got the zipper over his helmet and charged out the door, C.C.'s laughter following him the entire way.

(Line Break)

Suzaku groaned painfully, returning to consciousness slowly against the throbbing in his skull. He tried to move his arms but found them to be oddly hampered in their movements, and soon found that he couldn't move them more than a few centimeters. His eyes opened and he found himself in a dark-lit room, faint light filtering in through a set of steel bars. He briefly wondered where he was, then remembered as more of his senses returned to him.

_That's right, I was arrested_. He sat up slowly, wincing at the pain that ripped through his head from where one of the arresting officers had hit him with his truncheon and the bruised areas on his ribs and cheeks where he had been kicked and punched. He settled himself into a sitting position, breathing raggedly against the sharp pain that spread throughout his body before leveling out into a dull ache.

They had come to the A.S.E.E.C. storage hangar, accusing Suzaku of Viceroy Clovis' assassination before hauling him out in front of more than a hundred reporters, any attempt to deny his involvement rewarding him with a backhand to the face or a punch to the ribs. He was greeted upon his arrival by a ring of Britannian soldiers who proceeded to beat him black and blue until one of the soldiers was kind of enough to hit him over the head with his baton, knocking out Suzaku and ruining their fun.

Suzaku couldn't help but feel a surge of irritation. He had been about to go out and search for Lelouch and that strange girl when they had arrested him, and now there was no way of knowing whether or not Lelouch had made it out of Shinjuku Ghetto alive.

His heart ached when he remembered his long-lost childhood friend and the strange way they had met again. He had never expected to find his old friend in a combat zone, let alone with a group of terrorists, but after the initial shock had worn off it had been without hesitation when he shoved his gas mask onto Lelouch's face, protecting the boy who had become his brother with his own life. He smiled at the memory of the undignified squawk Lelouch had given when he shoved him down. That smile disappeared when he remembered how a girl, and not poison gas, had fallen out of the capsule, Lelouch immediately going to assist her while Suzaku dithered in shock.

Anger flashed through him when he remembered how the Captain of Clovis' Royal Guard had ordered him to kill innocent civilians, and then shot him when he refused. It should have surprised Suzaku: he had never truly disobeyed an order, though he did question their morality, but Lelouch had always pushed Suzaku into actions he would otherwise not have committed, commanding and manipulating him even when they were kids. It had annoyed him back then but by now he was used to it. When it got down to it, it was just easier to follow Lelouch's lead rather than fight against it.

"_If you want justice, you should destroy Britannia!"_

Suzaku felt an incredible wave of sadness as he recalled the words Lelouch had screamed at him. It had been how he knew it was him. _You're still angry, even seven years later, huh Lelouch? _He could still remember the oath Lelouch had sworn to him the day after his father died.

"_I swear Suzaku, so help me, I will obliterate Britannia!"_

_Oh, Lelouch_, Suzaku warned his friend mentally, _abandon that quest. It leads to nothing but heartache and death._ Suzaku had seen good people be consumed by their hatred and despair and shrivel up into husks of themselves, so set in the past and a war long lost.

That was not to say, however, that he had not had those angry thoughts, that he had not considered gunning down his superior officers when they committed unethical decisions or tried to order him to do the same. Often times there was nothing more he'd like better to do than steal a Sutherand and destroy as many other Britannians as possible before they got him.

But then he would remember the good men among the ranks, the Britannians that didn't let their power go to their heads, the ones that, even if they were still bigoted, didn't abuse the power they had to carry out their bigotry, the ones that he was trying so hard to convince, and he would be reassured of his actions and decisions, and trust once more in the quest that he had given himself.

_Japan is dead_, he had decided, _but the Japanese people are not, and even though we go by a different name now, we still have our lives. This land will never be freed through terrorism; Britannia's too strong for that, and all the terrorists are doing is making people miserable. That's why we have to introduce change from within, to make the situation in the government better, and make our people's lives better._

That was what he believed even now, here in this cell. Whatever charges they had put against him wouldn't stick, the evidence they presented, false or true, would be shot down, and he would be set free. He had to trust in the system now, just as he always had, just as he always would.


	4. Turn 4: Zero Hour

If I owned Code Geass, real life would not be an issue

Tokyo Settlement, Area 11, 2017

"Hurry with the paint, the procession begins in thirty minutes." Kallen glared up at the masked man, rubbing the sweat from her brow as she laid down the paint brush.

Irate, she stood and shouted, "It'd be going a lot faster if you got off your ass and helped!" She felt even more incensed when the man only chuckled.

"It is the privilege of the leader to stand back and allow others to do the somewhat more tedious work of igniting a revolution. Now back to it, time is wasting."

"You know, we haven't exactly accepted you as our leader yet," Kallen said even as she picked the brush back up and finished painting the door.

"You seemed perfectly fine with my role when I was pulling you from the fire in Shinjuku." He had her there, Kallen had to admit. They had been on the losing end, desperate, and had turned to the first voice that offered victory.

Kallen glanced back up at the strange man, known only to them as "Zero", and wondered again why she was there. It had only been two days ago that the man that they knew only as "The Voice" had contacted them, telling them to meet with him at Tokyo Tower, revealing himself and his goal: the rescue of Suzaku Kururugi, the man declared to have been Viceroy Clovis' assassin, an action Zero had claimed as his own. Needless to say they hadn't believed him, at least until he showed them his proof. _Then_ they had believed him.

_Somewhat too well_, Kallen thought. Barring herself and Ohgi, the others had opted out of their little escapade, explaining that the heat would be far too great and that they should abandon it too. But Kallen could not stand the idea of an innocent man being killed for something they had been responsible for, especially a fellow child of Japan. And, even more than that, there was something about this Zero, something magnetic, something that made her believe that he could in fact pull off this impossible rescue. After all, he had done the impossible before.

Of course, since Kallen was going along, Ohgi had to as well. There had simply been no way he was going to allow her to go off on her own with some strange man, and so he had been there, setting up the pyrotechnics that would burn away the Britannian flag and reveal its masked passenger before the entire world, as well as fine tuning the engine and refueling it in order to ensure that the blasted thing would actually make it to the convoy.

Kallen stood, finally finished, and grabbed the white chauffer clothing and hat that Zero had provided to her as a disguise, and looked to the finished car, whistling as she did so. Though the inside of the car looked like crap, the exterior was an almost perfect recreation of Viceroy Clovis' escort car, barring the large trailer on the back that hid the poison gas canister that was their trump card. Kallen had been outraged when she'd first seen it, as she and her group had been preparing to destroy the contents not use them, but Zero had assured her and Ohgi that the contents had been removed and all that would blow out of it was harmless colored smoke.

"The murder of innocents is not an activity I try to pursue," he had said, assuaging her anger and reassuring her that she had chosen correctly.

She took one last look at the masked man and, despite the cape that covered his torso, noticed something odd. _Is he wearing different clothes?_

….…

Diethard Reid sighed in boredom, watching the procession with half-glazed eyes, barely paying attention to the steady stream of reports that the idiots that manned the various monitors gave him. The execution of a regicide should have provided material far more exciting than what he was having to work with, but in truth everything involved in the proceedings was standard Imperial fare: the huge crowds demanding that the condemned suffer, the stuffy officers in all of their dress and pomp stomping down the streets in a self-important march, and the cries of the man at the center who proclaimed his innocence. Granted, the trial had not yet occurred and it was still possible that an acquittal could be the result of tonight's events, but that was an outcome Diethard had no confidence in. The judge was clearly sympathetic, if not outright supportive, of the Purists, whose members were the main actors in this evening's farce, and even if he wasn't, public outrage was such that he'd probably execute the boy anyway just to stave off the threat of riots. It was a tragic situation all around, and if Diethard were anything other than a Britannian, he could probably turn this into inspiration for a work that could rival Shakespeare's.

Diethard was not nearly stupid enough to believe the drivel that this boy was Clovis' killer, not even with the press release given by Kewell Soresi, the man in charge of the investigation, that specified the young man's motive and qualifications. It was clearly a very naked attempt for the Purist Faction to solidify its dominance of the Area's politics and military structure in a move that was equal parts brutal and foolish: the finding of the assassin had been too quick and his background fit far too conveniently. Anyone with a feeble understanding of politics would understand what they were doing and take steps accordingly to circumvent them, probably even try to find the real killer and humiliate them at the earliest opportunity. Exposure would likely mean the destruction of the Purist Faction and anyone who was moronic enough to ally themselves with them. Whether or not Kururugi was executed tonight was irrelevant to the long-term game the various political players were taking part in; he was simply another pawn that was about to be removed.

"Um, sir, something's happening. The convoy's stopped." Diethard was pulled out of his musing by one of the techs, he forgot the man's name, and he leaned down to have a look. Just as the man had said the procession had ceased moving, the soldiers seemingly confused, awaiting their commander's orders.

_What's going on out there_, Diethard wondering, his mind piquing with interest. _Are they just trying to let the mob get their fill, or is it something else?_

"Quit bs-ing me, man." Diethard turned his attention to another one of the techs, who held his head-set in disbelief.

"What do you have for me?" Diethard asked, sidling in alongside him. The tech shook his head.

"Sir, you wouldn't believe me if I told you."

Diethard looked at him hard. "Try me."

"Well, sir, they're saying a car is approaching."

"What kind?" Diethard asked impatiently.

"Well, they're saying it's Prince Clovis'."

_What?_

….

He stood in the shadows, the darkness wrapping itself around him, comforting, cradling him as one of its own, fingers clenched tightly around his prize. He could feel the platform beneath him begin to slow down and readjusted himself appropriately to prevent himself from falling down. So this was it, then. The time had come for him to make his appearance on the world stage once more.

He could hear it outside, the murmur of the audience that had come to bear witness to this. They would be the first to see the opening act in the performance of a lifetime, mankind's last great tragedy, an opera that would make the old Norse masters weep with envy. And he would be its main actor, its protagonist, its director and writer, determining its end as he saw fit. Yes, this was his life, his path, a road of blood and heartache etched into his very soul. The final preparations were ready and he made ready to unfurl his wings and fly.

The veil that enshrouded his lair burned away in a flash, and finally he stood before them, grabbing their attention. He spoke.

"I,"

A declaration of intent, a light in the darkness, an avenging hero,

"AM,"

Savior, Conqueror, Angel, Demon, Alpha, Omega, the First and the Last, the Beginning and the End,

"ZERO!"

….

Kewell Soresi narrowed his eyes at the masked fool who stood before him. _Zero, huh_? His eyes roamed all over the idiot, taking in first the black mask that shrouded his face, then the form-fitting cape that conformed to his body's shape and covered the rest of him. _It takes all kinds doesn't it?_

"Well, Zero, I think we've all seen enough of this charade." With that he raised his pistol and fired a single shot into the air. Four Sutherlands immediately dropped down around the look-alike car, rifles at the ready. "Now," Kewell added, smirking, "why don't you take off that silly mask and show us your face?"

Zero's hand sidled up his body, hovered before his mask, then thrust up into the air, fingers snapping once they reached their zenith. The trailer crumbled behind him in response, revealing an object that looked just like-

_NO!_ Kewell screamed mentally, his eyes bulging as he realized what it was. _The poison gas canister! _

"Kewell, stop, that's the gas from Shinjuku!" _I know that Viletta, shut the Hell up! _Kewell wanted to scream but didn't. He had to make sure they didn't panic the crowd. Any bad moves now could mean the end of everyone here.

"I think you know what this is," Zero called out mockingly, "One false move, and it goes."

_How dare you! You've taken every single person here hostage and they don't even know it! _In a panic, Kewell raised his sidearm, intending to shoot the maniac dead, when his own hand dipped into his coat, pulling out what looked like a detonator, and flipping a switch.

"This is a dead man trigger," the lunatic informed him, "and it has been activated. Kill me now, and the contents of this device will explode over this entire crowd."

Kewell grit his teeth in frustration, lowering his gun back into its holster and glaring at Zero. _Have to stall for time. Maybe we can get a signal jammer off, make that thing useless_. He hoped that the others were already thinking of this. Out loud he said, "Fine, you've made your point. What are your demands?"

Zero gestured to their prisoner. "A simple exchange: this for Kururugi."

Kewell barked in sudden laughter. "Be reasonable now, Zero. This man is accused of high treason, for the murder of Prince Clovis, our beloved Viceroy-"

"That man did not kill Clovis," Zero interrupted. "He is merely the scapegoat that you have used because the killer still eludes you. I tell you this now: your assassin is no longer running," Zero paused dramatically. "He stands before you."

Kewell gaped at him. "You-You mean-"

"Yes. The man who killed Prince Clovis," here he turned to a camera man who had gotten far closer than should have been allowed, "was ME."

Kewell felt his stomach bottom out, his heart begin to race faster than ever, and his vision narrow on this psychopath. _We're finished_. The thought roared through his mind but he quickly stamped it down, utter hatred seeping through him at the damage this man was doing_. I will not allow this humiliation!_ "While I do not doubt your audacity I find that a little hard to believe."

The masked man lifted his other arm, which so far had remained hidden behind his back, and the sight chilled Kewell's blood. Hanging from Zero's hand was Prince Clovis' head.

"If you do not believe me," the assassin called out mockingly," why not ask Prince Clovis himself?"

….

Diethard could not help the grin that covered his face as Zero held up the dead Viceroy's head. He held the camera he had appropriated for this up close viewing in shaking hands, giddy joy bursting through his body. At first he had cursed the amateur camera man who had forced him to come out here on his own and get this footage, but now he wanted to find the man and kiss him, with a promotion on the side. This was absolutely brilliant material and he was loving every second of it.

_This is just one big performance to him_, he realized in awe as the masked man tossed Clovis' head over to the guards with an air of nonchalance. _He's the host and we are but the patrons in his theater._

"For a single life," Zero said, "you will save scores of Britannians. I find that to be quite the bargain."

"DAMN YOU!" Diethard swiveled around, bringing the camera to bear on Soresi, who looked to be beyond reason at this point. The gun that had been in his holster appeared once again in his hand. "You will die for your impertinence!"

"Careful, now," Diethard turned again, "If you kill me here, then every Britannian here will follow me in death, and that would provide the Purists nothing but humiliation and ruin. If you truly care about your comrades, you will release Kururugi and do everything you can to help us escape." Those last words were spoken in a commanding tone and Diethard brought the camera back to Kewell, anxious to see his reaction.

To his surprise, the Purist seemed to have calmed down considerably, and he now seemed to be gazing at Zero with something akin to tolerance. Diethard almost dropped the camera in shock at the next words. "Release the prisoner, now."

….

"Kewell, what the Hell are you doing!" Viletta Nu shouted as the guards began to release Kururugi, un-cuffing him even as Zero approached them.

"Don't interfere, Viletta!" Kewell shouted, snarling at her. "I am doing what is necessary for the Purist Faction. Stay out of this."

Viletta couldn't believe what she was hearing. Kewell was behaving completely irrationally. _Has the situation gone completely over his head?_ She wondered. _Has he gone insane?_

She watched in horror as the guards were forced to release their prisoner into the hands of their Viceroy's murderer, anger spiking after the guards flinched when Zero accused them of not letting him speak. A woman in white, the one who had been driving the car, stepped up to him.

"Zero," she said, "it's time."

"Indeed," Zero said in response, "time for us to go." Viletta screamed in terror as he pulled up the remote in his hand and let go of the dead-man switch before sprinting to the edge of the highway.

_He never intended to return the gas_, she realized as purple smoke spewed out. _He's slaughtering thousands!_

"Damn you Zero!" she screamed, bringing her hands back down to the Sutherland controls, closing up the cockpit and rushing towards them, rage and grief swelling in her heart. Something smacked into her Knightmare, slamming her against the computers and she looked up in shock.

Kewell Soresi was blocking her advance, the hand of his Sutherland pressing her against the railing. "What the Hell do you think you're doing Viletta!" He screamed over the comm channel.

"What you should be doing! He's murdered thousands of innocent people!" She struggled to break free but stopped at Kewell's next words.

"That doesn't matter! That man has to get away or the Purists will be humiliated!"

Viletta stared at her view-screen in astonishment, then turned to her cameras, watching as people screamed and ran pell mell as far away as they could. So far, however, she could see no bodies. _Colored smoke,_ she thought. She snarled into her comm link. "And we aren't being humiliated now?"

"I told you to stop!" She looked up when she realized that he hadn't been talking to her and checked her right side camera. One of the other Sutherlands had opened fire on the fleeing terrorists, holding its rifle in both hands and firing on full automatic. Kewell's voice came down to her, "If you won't follow my orders-" He stopped talking and, to Viletta's shock, opened fire on their fellow Purist. High caliber bullets punctured the arms and torso before hammering away at the cockpit, and Viletta had to fight not to throw up when the Knightmare exploded before the pilot could eject.

"See what happens when you-" Viletta was tired of listening to this maniac. In a fit of rage she threw off Kewell's weakened grip, grabbing the stun tonfas equipped to her Frame, and smashed in the factsphere, pivoting around with one in each hand to simultaneously shatter the hand holding the rifle. She sent a sweeping kick to the legs of the opposing Sutherland, and then stabbed into them with the tonfas. She grabbed up the fallen rifle and aimed it squarely at Kewell's Frame, checking her cameras as she did so. In all of the confusion, Zero and his accomplices had managed to escape.

She glared down in disgust at the image of Kewell's Knightmare. "Well, you've succeeded, you bastard. They managed to escape." There was nothing but silence on the other end. Her mouth twisted in rage. "Well, traitor, have you nothing to say?"

For a moment there was naught but silence. Then, finally, when Kewell's voice did come, it said, "Viletta? What's going on? What happened?"

Viletta stared at her communications rig in disbelief. It was quickly replaced by fury. "I couldn't even begin to tell you Kewell. What I can say is this: you're under arrest for aiding and abetting the escape of an accused regicide and the terrorists who freed him. In addition to this, you are charged with high treason for the killing of a fellow soldier without due process by the law. Have I made myself clear?"

"What are you talking about Viletta? I have done no such thing. Where's Zero?" Kewell's voice was filled with anger, and more than a trace amount of fear. "Release me, now."

Viletta glared down at the Knightmare's image in hatred. "Save it, traitor," she said venomously. "I don't take orders from the likes of you." She cut off the comm link before he could respond, opening up a new one to the Viceroy's mansion, and informing them of their imminent return.

…

Zero stood atop the rubble of the building they had escaped to, staring calmly at Suzaku Kururugi. A number of emotions swelled up within him: anger, envy, disgust, but above all, he was filled with love. Suzaku Kururugi had been more than just his best friend: he had been a brother to him. No, closer than brothers, for there wasn't a single brother that Zero had that he didn't hate. And yet, for so long, they had been enemies, constantly hurting one another, taking and taking, not realizing their folly until it was too late, and then stabbing each other cruelly because it was what they had wanted.

Suzaku's transformation into the monster he had become was Zero's fault, the pain of losing a soul mate as equal as the hatred of the former friend that had taken her from him. Suzaku's dark and twisted path had begun when Euphemia had died, and been completed with the bombing of Tokyo during the Second Black Rebellion, the knowledge that he had killed millions finally breaking whatever tenuous grip on reality he still had. They, Zero and Suzaku, had both been destroyed that day, finally pushed past whatever moral and ethical boundaries they had set up for themselves and beginning the path of mass murderers. In the end, they had deserved their fates.

But this was not that world, and these two were not those people. The man Zero was now dealing with was not the jaded, world-weary, suicidal monster that he had convinced to take up his mask. This was a young man untouched by the tragedy of lost love, naïve to the way of the world and unwilling to change himself to become what he needed to be. In short, he had to be careful here of what he said if he was to win Suzaku to his side in the future. That was the only certainty here: this would be a long-term seduction that would pit all of Zero's wits and wills against his worst opponent.

Zero chucked inwardly. _Let the best man win._

…

Suzaku Kururugi stared up at the man responsible for his kidnapping, for he really had no other word for it, trying to gauge him, the mask that hid his face and the cape that shrouded his body making it difficult to read him. He wasn't scared: "Zero", as he called himself, had gone through a lot of time and effort to meet personally with him; he wasn't going to kill him now. He was brought out of his musing when Zero spoke.

"It seems they treated you quite poorly," the masked vigilante observed calmly. "How badly did they hurt you?"

Suzaku shrugged. "Not too much, all things considered, it could have been a lot worse."

"I take it you've had worse?" Zero's asked, his voice laced with sadness. He added, "It's a tragedy that Britannia would treat one of their loyal soldiers like this."

"I'd like to point out that I was under suspicion of high treason," Suzaku joked, "They're not exactly supposed to be nice to regicides."

"Such treatment would not have happened to a Britannian man were he in your position. A Britannian would not have been subject to the torture you clearly endured, nor the show trial that was awaiting you at the end of your path. Especially not a man in a position equivalent to your own."

"What," Suzaku asked sarcastically, "the position of a foot soldier?"

Zero shook his head. "No, the position of a nobleman."

Suzaku frowned. "I'm not exactly a noble, you know."

"Not in the literal sense, no," Zero acknowledged, "But you are the son of Japan's last Prime Minister. Such an equivalent rank would take precedence."

"I'm not worried about it."

"You forgive far too quickly, Kururugi."

Suzaku shook his head. "Hatred, anger, it's exhausting, tiresome. Sure, you feel empowered at first, but when the object of your aggression is no longer around, you're left with nothing but disappointment and regret. I'd rather not live my life like that."

Zero nodded, and Suzaku got the impression that he was smiling behind his mask. "You have the wisdom of the sages, or perhaps that of a man who has had his share of sadness."

Suzaku suppressed the urge to flinch at the man's knowing tone. He turned away and asked, "So why did you kidnap me anyway?"

"I prefer the term "Rescue" myself," Zero said, his voice slightly miffed. "I rescued you because you are an innocent man who was about to be sent to death for an action that I committed."

Suzaku tilted his eyebrow in confusion. "But why should you care?" he asked, "If they had in fact convicted and killed me, that would probably take the heat off of you."

"True," Zero conceded, "but the end result would be the same: and innocent man would be dead, and blamed for my actions. I am a servant of Justice, not some coward who hides in the shadows."

"A 'servant of Justice?'" Suzaku asked skeptically, "You killed Prince Clovis at Shinjuku and cut off his head. I wouldn't exactly call that 'Justice.'"

"Clovis was the enemy commander and my opponent. Why wouldn't I kill him?"

Suzaku's eyes widened in understanding. "Then it was you who commanded the terrorists at Shinjuku?"

"Yes."

Suzaku gritted his teeth in anger. "Then it was you who pushed the Viceroy to the limit. It was you who was responsible for the cleansing of the Ghetto."

Zero laughed, high and cold and sending chills down Suzaku's spine. "That's an interesting way of looking at it, but entirely incorrect. I was not in command until the last ten minutes of the battle. Prince Clovis ordered the Ghetto's destruction _before_ I made my appearance, not after." Zero tilted his head. "In fact, had Clovis not ordered the slaughter, I likely would not have intervened, but the murder of innocent people forced my hand."

Suzaku was incredulous. "What do you mean by that?"

Zero shrugged. "Up to that point, it had been, if not a fair battle, at least one in which all parties knew one another and killing was kept contained to the soldiers. When the Viceroy began to murder unarmed men, women, and children, I had to assist the rebels who were trying to protect them. My conscience cannot dictate otherwise."

"And the gas on the highway just now? How does that fit into the whole 'servant of Justice' shtick?"

"Colored smoke, nothing more. The end result is the same as Shinjuku's: the primary goal completed with minimal casualties both for my men and civilians."

"I see," Suzaku said, mildly disgusted, "So that's all that matters to you isn't it? The 'end result'."

Zero's response was testy: "My methods brought about the best possible result."

"Results that are achieved through dishonorable actions have no meaning Zero. The ends never justify the means."

"You have a very childish and naïve view of war, Kururugi, and one that will likely get you killed," Zero said condescendingly. "Success in war, in anything really, is based in the art of deception, in being able to trick my foe into attacking when he should have defended, reinforce this flank instead of advancing that flank, retreating when he should have attacked. What would you have my men do? Line up in parade rows and march forward in nice orderly lines so that the machine guns might mow us down? Let the enemy run from their breastworks when I should have chased them down?"

"How about holding innocent people hostage for the sake of one man? How about using colored smoke as a distraction that ends up making people trample each other in a panic, or forcing security personnel to fire into crowds?" Suzaku returned heatedly. "All of you terrorists are the same: you don't care who you hurt so long as _someone_ is. You fight a war you have no hope of winning and kill anyone that doesn't conform to your worldview. People like you make me sick."

He had angered the man, Suzaku knew that, and he waited for the bullet that would surely strike him dead. There was a tense moment of silence before Zero spoke again.

"It seems we are at something of an impasse," he said, crossing his arms. "Despite our disagreements, I would like to offer you a position within my Order. We could use a man of your honor and talents."

"Thanks, but no thanks," Suzaku said, somewhat relieved that the man wasn't going to kill him. He turned around and began walking away.

"Where are you going?" Zero asked.

"To my court martial," Suzaku said, not stopping, "I'm already late."

"Kururugi, let me offer a word of warning." Suzaku stopped, listening. "The day will come when you will be forced to make a choice between the ideals you hold to so strongly or the innocent people that they will doom. I only hope that when that day comes, you will not regret your choice."

Suzaku squared his shoulders. "Thank you, Zero, for your honesty if nothing else."

"Farewell, Suzaku Kururugi. Until we meet again," Zero replied.

Suzaku nodded imperceptibly, then walked off into the first rays of dawn.


	5. Turn 5: The Witch and The Orange

Planning would still be involved even if I did own Code Geass. (And being sick would still suck)

Detention Cell, Tokyo Settlement, Area 11, 2017

"I don't know anything!" Gilbert G. P. Guilford narrowed his eyes at the pathetic sight before him. In days gone by, Kewell Soresi had been a man of respect and honor, the right hand man of Jeremiah Gottwald. His record was spotless and his reputation as a Knight was second to none. A bright future had lain before him.

Now he was a quivering hunk of meat and blood, torn and beaten ragged. His legs and feet were twisted at obscene angles, his ribs were mostly broken, and those that weren't were badly bruised. Red marked those areas that were still dry, easy indicators of internal bleeding, while fingertips bled freely from where the nails had been ripped out. Hair littered the floor around him from where it had been torn out in tufts. He stared up at Guilford with a right eye swimming in blood, the other swollen shut. Tears made their way down his cheeks, cleaning a path down through the blood, over split lips pulled tight over shattered teeth.

A baton was held loosely in Guilford's right hand, and he smacked it casually against the open palm of the other, a sneer working its way over his face. "Proclaiming your innocence is pointless, traitor," he told Soresi, "We have the video footage proving your treachery, and thousands of people who witnessed the deed personally. Your trial, if it arrives, will be a mere formality, pending the end of our investigation. Now, you can do this the easy way and tell us what we wish to know, and we can end this here and now. Or, we can continue. Either way, we get what we want. So make this simple for everyone and talk."

"I've told you!" Kewell sobbed, "I don't know anything! I don't know why I acted in the way I did, I don't remember anything!"

Guilford smacked him across the face with the baton. "Pleading amnesia isn't going to work, Soresi. There is no escaping this. No hiding. Talk, or continue to face the Royal Family's wrath." Other than the sounds of heavy sobbing, Kewell said nothing.

Guilford sighed and rubbed his eyes, tired. They had been going at this for three days, performing the very best in interrogation techniques, practices that had broken far greater men than Kewell Soresi would ever be, and still they were no closer to the truth. Soresi had held to his story of "amnesia" that entire time, first with great bluster and pomp, then in much the same manner as now, begging for them to stop but never confessing.

_That leaves us with two theories_, Guilford considered_. Either he's a fanatic, loyal to this 'Zero' character, or-_ He stopped for a moment. _Or maybe he's telling the truth_.

Neither thought was very appealing, and certainly would not be accepted by the Princess, at least not anytime soon. Princess Cornelia was in an absolute fury, her rage over Prince Clovis' death and the subsequent debacle of a "trial" having forced them to finish the campaign in Area 18 far more quickly and, it must be admitted, far more brutally then they had otherwise planned. Now she had taken over as Viceroy of Area 11 with two goals in mind: pacify the dissident colony of its rebel holdouts, and deliver Zero's carcass to the Emperor, preferably in the same manner as was done to Clovis.

And Guilford would help her in this, as he always had. He had not been close to Prince Clovis, and from what he had seen of the man, he had seemed a bit of a buffoon, but Princess Cornelia had cared for him, and Princess Euphemia had loved him dearly. Zero would pay for bringing such pain to the two people who mattered most in his life, and Guilford would be happy to deliver the fool's just reward.

_But first we have to find him, and Soresi is our only lead on his whereabouts. _"Bring the cattle brand," Guilford said, turning to one of his assistants.

"No!" Soresi screamed, already moving to get away, only to be restrained by a pair of guards standing nearby.

The attendant came forward slowly, the red hot brand in hand, already prepared for what came next. Guilford stepped back and grimaced as the screams began.

…

Governor's Palace, Tokyo Settlement, Area 11

"You allowed this nutcase to make off with Kururugi and humiliated Britannia on the world stage, so tell me Margrave Gottwald, why shouldn't I put you in a cell next to Soresi?"

"Because Your Highness, as you are well aware, I delegated the investigation into Prince Clovis' assassination to Kewell and had nothing to do with the events of that night."

"You mean aside from OK'ing the final departure to that debacle?"

"Soresi told me that he had found the Prince's killer and provided ample evidence as to this accusation-"

"Evidence that turned out to be heavily falsified and edited."

"Kewell was a man I trusted, my friend, or so I thought. I believed in him because of that. Clearly my faith was misplaced."

"That 'faith' as you call it got a man killed."

Jeremiah sighed, running his fingers over the bridge of his nose. "Your Highness, with all due respect, what would you do if your Knight came to you claiming to have a killer, a motive, an opportunity? Would you immediately second-guess him, or would you take him at his word?"

He watched the Princess bristle, outraged. "My Knight would never do something this underhanded!"

"I believed the same thing about Kewell, Your Highness," Jeremiah pointed out, "Can you now see my dilemma?"

The Princess was not placated. "A Prince of the Empire was murdered. Why did you not work on the investigation yourself?" She asked pointedly.

"Because Your Highness, frankly speaking, I haven't had the time," Jeremiah answered honestly.

The Princess stood up in a rage. "So then a regicide isn't worth your valuable time?"

Jeremiah gaped at her incredulously. "Your Highness, look at your own desk!" He said, waving at the table that divided them. "An uprising in Saitama, bombings in Hokkaido and Kyushu, riots in Hiroshima. I've been somewhat preoccupied!"

"All of which pales in comparison to the assassination of a Royal," The Princess ground out. "They can wait."

Finally, Jeremiah was angry. He all but shouted, "Your Highness, with all due respect, what do you think Prince Clovis would prefer? Stabilizing the Area in the wake of his death, or let the colony burn so that we can pursue one man?"

"That's quite enough," Andreas Darlton commanded, speaking for the first time, "You speak to a Princess of the Holy Britannian Empire. Show the proper respect you insolent swine."

Jeremiah backed away immediately, bowing his head. "Forgive me Your Highness," he said, "I'm afraid my emotions got the better of me. I will accept whatever punishment you deem appropriate."

There was a tense moment of silence. Jeremiah could feel the Princess eying him angrily, and not for the first time he felt nervous about this meeting. He marveled at his Prince's intelligence network: to know not only the identity of the new Viceroy but also the approximate time she would arrive? An excellent start, and a perfect means for Jeremiah to get ready for the coming storm.

That led to a series of facts that left him uncomfortable: if Jeremiah was not careful here his Prince's careful work would be for naught. Prince Lelouch still needed him in a position of power in order to shore up his intelligence network and manipulate Imperial colonial policy to serve his own ends. The entire plan hinged on Jeremiah being able to avoid the fate awaiting the rest of the Purist Faction.

Jeremiah couldn't help but be amazed at how quickly the group had fallen from grace; over seventy percent of its members rounded up within the space of a few days and confined in their own cells to await interrogation. The only reason Jeremiah wasn't in a cell with them was the Prince's order that he erase all of the records of the meeting that had decided Kewell's fate.

"It would seem that I have erred as well," the Princess said, snapping Jeremiah out of his thoughts. "The death of my brother and the disrespect paid to his body has caused my temper to run somewhat short. I apologize." She continued, adding, "Your conduct in these past few days has been as good as one could hope considering the circumstances. For that at least you have the gratitude of the Crown."

Once upon a time those words would have meant more to Jeremiah than the sheer relief he felt. Jeremiah straightened out of his former position and asked, "What is to happen to me, Your Highness?"

The Princess appraised him, her glare never softening, eyes sharp as she said, "I don't have any evidence that says that you were in on Soresi's betrayal. However," her eyes focused on him, promising pain, "that doesn't mean none exists. If I find any proof, any scrap, any shred of it, I will pursue it to the utmost and make certain you face the consequences." She sighed, closed her eyes, then relaxed against her chair, the anger quiet now.

"Until the investigation is complete," she added, "you, and the Purists we haven't locked up yet, are out of the military. Unless absolutely necessary, or if you are exonerated, you will not be privy to confidential material, and you certainly won't be entering the combat zone. Have I made myself clear?"

Jeremiah bowed. "Yes, Your Highness. What are to be my duties then?"

"You are to assist Sub-Viceroy Princess Euphemia li Britannia in the day to day operations of the Area. Whatever domestic work needs doing, you'll be there to help. I'll have some of my men see to it that that is _all_ you do," the Viceroy ordered, turning to the documents on her table. "You're dismissed."

Jeremiah spun on his heel, making for the door. "Oh, and Lord Gottwald?" Jeremiah turned, eyebrow raised. "Send Nu in on your way out." Jeremiah nodded and exited the room.

….

Jeremiah had been waiting outside the door of the Viceroy's office for a quarter of an hour when Viletta stepped out, visibly shaken. She gasped in surprise when she saw Jeremiah, then fell into step beside him as they strode into the hallway.

"So," Jeremiah asked, "how did it go?"

Viletta sighed. "The only reason I'm not in a cell is that I was the one who apprehended Kewell. As it stands I've been demoted to Private for being a part of that whole fiasco. My career is over." Her voice wavered when she said that, and Jeremiah knew it was eating at her.

"Not necessarily," Jeremiah assured her. Before he could go on she snorted.

"Oh, sure My Lord, I'm still technically a soldier, but there's no longer a chance for advancement. They'll probably have me doing some kind of menial work, like traffic or riot control," Viletta said derisively, her sarcasm colored by her anger. Sighing again she added, "At least I'm still free, unlike most of the others."

Jeremiah shook his head. "Even they're in danger at this point. The Princess is taking no chances with any of us." He turned to Viletta and said forlornly, "Tell me Viletta, and be honest: the men remaining. Are they really the only ones that were still loyal to me?"

Viletta bowed her head, downcast. "I believe so, My Lord. Kewell appears to have had quite the larger following than previously thought."

Jeremiah stopped, punching the wall in frustration. "What the Hell happened to the Purist Faction," he demanded angrily, "We used to stand for something, for the thousands of Britannians disenfranchised from the officer corps, for the commoners wronged in both Britannia and abroad. Have we really fallen so far? Is this the reaping we have sown?"

Viletta placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Lord Jeremiah. It seems we're done."

Jeremiah was silent for a moment, head bowed. Then he straightened up, surprising Viletta with the fire in his eyes. "No," he declared firmly, "It's not over. Not for you and me. I've been made Princess Euhphemia's personal advisor and assistant, and I'm going to need help." He turned to Viletta.

"Will you help me, Viletta?" he asked.

Viletta shook her head, saying, "I don't know how I'd be able to. I've been stripped of all rank, remember?"

Jeremiah waved his hand in dismissal. "That is of little consequence. I'm still a member of the nobility and I still require an aide. Stick with me and we'll rise back to the top, stronger than before. Are you with me Viletta?"

Viletta nodded, a fierce grin splitting her face. "To the end, My Lord!"

Their flames reignited, the two marched down the hall.

….

Governor's Palace, Tokyo Settlement, Area 11: Seven Hours Later

"Gottwald and Nu are a security risk My Lady," Guilford said, frowning, "I don't understand why you would assign him as Princess Euphemia's assistant."

Cornelia shook her head tiredly and said, "Gottwald is the only one among the nobility who not only knows the dire situation in Area 11 but is actually willing to be honest about it. The others are fools, sycophants, or both. I hate speaking ill of the dead, especially family, but Clovis' administration was as corrupt and incompetent as any I have ever seen. Gottwald is the only one worth half a damn. He'll tell Euphie what she needs to know, not what she wants to hear."

"Either I or Darlton could do the same job," Guilford protested, "This is not something I feel that should be left to someone we can't trust."

"I need you both with me, Sir Guilford, in the pursuit for Zero. Aside from which, I trust Euphie: if she doesn't want to work with him he won't be a problem."

"My Lady-" Guilford started, but Cornelia fixed him with a hard glare.

"That discussion is at an end, Guilford. What have you learned from Soresi?"

Guilford, properly reprimanded, took the change of subject in stride: "Unfortunately nothing. He still claims amnesia, even though he has long since gone past the breaking point for most men. Unless he's a zealot, which I doubt, I believe him when he says he doesn't know anything."

"What about his former supporters? Have they been interrogated yet?"

"They have but we're not getting anything useful out of them either. They were just as shocked as we were at Soresi's actions."

Cornelia huffed angrily. "So we're back to square one, huh? Soresi was the only lead we had on Zero, and that's apparently dried up. What's his current state?"

Guilford grimaced. "He's in no condition to stand trial of any kind. Even if he was, the jury would likely acquit him out of pity."

Cornelia nodded. "Then he is of no further use to us. Dispose of him at your earliest convenience," she ordered.

Guilford nodded in affirmation. The Princess turned to Darlton, who stood next to her knight. "How goes the hunt for Zero?"

The old soldier shook his head in the negative. "It's too early to tell, Your Highness," he reported reluctantly, "I have feelers out and there's a reward out for any information but so far nothing. Our assassin has gone completely to ground since Kururugi's rescue, and I suspect that in spite of the reward, we will gain little from the locals."

"I agree: a reward will not be enough," Cornelia said slowly, "The Elevens have been spitting in Britannia's face for the past seven years. There are still too many in this cesspool that think they have a chance of pushing us out. Likely they are applauding Zero. If we don't act quickly we might be facing a larger insurrection."

"Then what do you propose My Lady?" Guilford asked.

Cornelia smiled viciously. "Since we can't seem to find Zero, and the Elevens aren't going to help, we let Zero find us."

Darlton grinned. "Set a trap for the man and take care of him the good old fashioned way."

Cornelia nodded, still smiling. Guilford frowned. "But what kind of trap," he asked, "and how will we lure him into it?"

Cornelia ruffled through the various documents laying before her, saying, "Gottwald mentioned an uprising occurring in the Saitama Ghetto. What do we know about it?"

Darlton shrugged, "A glorified gang war really. A bunch of punks that call themselves the 'Yamato Alliance.' They were mostly just vandals until they managed to get their hands on some weapons and ammunition. After the Zero debacle they've declared themselves to be in open rebellion for the 'Freedom of Japan.' The Knight Police could probably dispose of them with relative ease."

"The current population in the Ghetto is a little over a thousand," Guilford added, "making it somewhat more difficult than it reasonably should be to catch them."

Cornelia's face split in a triumphant grin. "Then it's exactly what we need," she declared, earning confused glances from the both of them.

Guilford asked, "What do you mean My Lady?"

"What's the full report on the Shinjuku Incident?" Cornelia asked patiently.

"Terrorists gained access to Britannian military hardware," Darlton answered, resting his hand in his chin in thought, "They didn't become really dangerous until then."

"Sounds similar to the Yamato Alliance doesn't it?" the Princess asked.

Both men grinned as they realized what their Princess had in mind.

"We're going to reenact the Shinjuku Incident," Cornelia announced, "We'll order traffic restrictions in and around the Ghetto. Have someone leak to the press that we're planning a major offensive but don't disclose the target. We don't want him knowing we're setting a trap for him."

"What if he does find out it's a trap?" Darlton asked.

Cornelia chuckled. "You saw the show he gave at the convoy, Darlton. Even if he knows it's a trap, that ego of his will draw him in just fine. I'll go personally as well. He won't be able to resist the opportunity to kill two Royals in quick succession."

Guilford was already shaking his head. "My Lady," he pleaded, "it is far too dangerous for you to be there. Allow myself and Darlton to go in your stead."

The Princess glared daggers at him. "I have never been afraid to lead my men into battle, be it against accomplished commanders or terrorist scum like Zero. Nothing has changed that."

The Princess stood, regal and terrifying, and both men knew who they spoke to now. "I'll tear Zero's heart out of his chest myself," she declared quietly, curling her hand into a fist before them.

The Witch of Britannia was marching to war.

…

Ashford Academy Clubhouse, Tokyo Settlement, Area 11

"Cornelia's going to begin commencing her attack on Saitama soon," C.C. commented as Lelouch began the finishing touches on the pot of tea. She asked, "What are your intentions?"

"What do you think?" Lelouch asked sarcastically, "I'm setting out to the Ghetto tomorrow morning. The evacuation and preparation has to begin now, not when she's right on their doorstep. Too many lives depend on it."

"You remember what happened last time, don't you?" C.C. asked him, picking up a small cake off the tray to her right. "She slow roasted your ass and then handed it to you on a silver platter."

"Last time that happened because the terrorists panicked and stopped following my orders. Had they listened we would have-"

"What, won?" C.C. said scornfully. "You didn't have a chance in that fight, stop pretending otherwise. Cornelia had you dead to rights, outsmarted and outgunned. She would have discovered you if I hadn't shown up."

"I've taken precautions against that," Lelouch said, angry. "She won't beat me this time."

"Why, because you know what she did last time? You of all people should know that the situation on the ground can change at a moment's notice."

"I can adapt to whatever she throws at me," Lelouch retorted, setting a pair of cups on the tray. "I know how she fights, her tactics, and her personality, all of which served me well when I brought her down during the Black Rebellion."

"You beat a woman in the middle of a psychological breakdown, not the woman you met at Saitama or even Narita. This is Cornelia in her prime. She's drawing you out and forcing you to fight on ground of her own choosing, and is in command of an elite army while you utilize men you know you cannot trust. Some call that bold. I call it stupid."

Lelouch turned to her, snarling, "Just what the Hell is your problem?"

"My problem is your damned ego, Lelouch," C.C. said caustically, "More than military strength, more than capable commanders, your most dangerous enemy is that big head of yours. You think you're the smartest person on the battlefield, that no one can match you, and it's come back to bite you more than once. Last time your arrogance cost you everything: your sister, your best friend, the Black Knights, and ultimately your life."

"I am not the stupid child who thought he could do no wrong," Lelouch grunted through gritted teeth, "I know better than anyone else that I can make a mistake. But this is _not_ last time, and I am _not_ making the same mistakes." He turned back to the tray before she could respond, grabbing it up and stepping through the doorway.

He could have sworn she said "Idiot" as he headed out.

….

Nunnaly Lamperouge could sense her brother's anger as he came into the dining room. _What's wrong_? She wondered as she heard the sound of metal being slapped down on wood. _Did something happen at school today?_

"Here we are, Nunnaly. Tea is served." His voice was strained, as if he was barely able to keep his temper in check.

_Something bad must have happened,_ she thought. But what could get under Big Brother's skin so badly?

"Would you like to have the cakes first or take a sip of your drink?" _So much tension in his voice_, she thought. She didn't comment on it just yet: better to take some drink first and calm him down.

"Tea, please." She smiled in the way she knew would ease her brother's worries, putting on the best innocent look she possibly could. She felt the cool ceramic touch her lips and opened them slightly, sipping down the delicious drink her brother had prepared. She quirked her lip a little bit, allowing some of the precious liquid to spill out and over her chin.

"Uh oh," Lelouch said, amusement coating his voice, "Looks like we have a little mess. Hang on a second." Nunnaly could hear the tension leaving his voice as he attended to her and felt a warmth in her heart at the knowledge that she had relieved some of her brother's stress. The rustling of a napkin caught her attention and she pressed her face forward just as Lelouch reached up, the silk cloth pressing gently against her chin and mouth, soaking up the slight spill.

When the cloth left her face, Nunally turned in Lelouch's general direction and asked him, "What's wrong Lelouch, you seem upset?"

There was a short pause before Lelouch said, "It's nothing Nunnaly, don't worry about it."

Nunnaly shook her head, saying, "Please don't push me away Big Brother, I want to help you. Tell me what's troubling you."

She heard Lelouch sigh before he answered her. "I got into a bit of a fight with a friend."

"You mean Shirley?" Nunnaly asked immediately. Though she loved the dear girl as an elder sister, she knew the older teen tended to harp on Lelouch's gambling habits. Had she finally gone too far?

"No, not Shirley," Lelouch chuckled, "But it was a female friend." So Milly or Nina? Nunnaly filed that question away for later.

"What were you fighting about?" she asked out loud.

She heard Lelouch sigh. "Since I was going to tell you anyway, I may as well explain." Nunnaly perked up with interest. "I'm going to be heading out of the Tokyo Settlement and traveling to Kyoto. There's a nobleman there who's requested my help in a match and is offering a hefty sum. I'll be gone for a few days at the most."

The idea of being away from Lelouch for so long hit Nunnaly hard, but what hit her harder was the realization that flashed through her. _He's_ _lying_.

If Nunnaly had been anyone else she would have been unable to tell, but years of relying on sound to discern direction and intention due to her blindness had honed her hearing. She could hear the slight uptake in vocal pattern, and discern the low note of guilt that made his voice squeak ever so slightly.

She reached out her hand, saying, "Oh Lelouch, please don't go. I can't stand the idea of us being apart for so long."

"Don't worry, Nunnaly, I won't be gone for too long, and you'll have Sayoko with you." Lelouch took her hand and she concentrated on the feeling of it. What she felt confirmed it: the heated skin that was slightly perspiring, the slight tremble, the quickened pulse that was his heart rate spiking. He _was_ lying to her.

"I adore Sayoko, Big Brother, but she isn't you. Please come back as quickly as you can," Nunnaly said, letting her worry for him infuse her voice.

"I will Nunnaly. I promise."

Hours later, when she heard Lelouch exit their home and begin his journey to wherever he was _really_ going, Nunnaly was kept awake by a single thought.

_Oh Brother, just what are you involved in?_


End file.
